eulogy in fragments

See a child.  

A little boy who holds a hand of each of his parents.   He walks between them.  

They walk the sidewalk.  

                         They make a M.

 I am looking at the future and it sounds cliché, maybe, but only because we have lost sight of that simple truth.  

The children are the future.  

"That song is  a fuckin' rally cry. "

As children we think we can do anything

and we can.  

We tell our children

they can. 

In some strange way we can.   

We tell them that they’re special and they are.  

They are, but then we watch. 

As adults we have been beaten into submission by a system we buy into unless we realize we can't and that's earth-shattering.

“Shattering,” she repeats.  

We start to value not what we want to do but what we have to do and know.

We forget what we know.

Our children are the hope. Hope that they will remember and not forget. Hope that they'll resist our mistakes. And stay sane amidst the madness. 

This is why people have babies. To fix the past.

“What do we do when our hope…” She trails off, unable to bring herself to say something.  “when the cycle... ”

Fails and then repeats.

Madness.  human history is just the a continued existence in a state of constant madness.  There are so many rules. Things we’ve excepted without realizing we have even given a choice.

“There a moment and u can see in only on the outside. The moment you realize that someone has crossed over. You realize that you’ve lost them.”

This kid with his parents will grow up.   They’ll live.   They’ll all die one day.   Simple as that.

To the they and no longer us-es of the world. 

“And you’re mad kind of a little. At them for changing, growing.  At yourself for not realizing the treachery sooner.”

“You want to know what its like to lose a child?   Betrayl.   That’s what.   A complete betrayl of love.”

The vision, the voice, the memory is gone.   As are the family of three.   I’ve forgotten what I was doing before I saw them.