For we, can declare our love for a world that is yet to be born.
History, it is something that we wield. We excavate chapters of tragedy and hardship to learn their lessons encased; strangled for a price that we’d never, truly, .. understand.
A blinding light of our very own, is yet to be forged. From the remnants of hope; so many dreams obliterated by reality. Lifted by the hands of those who suffer, altering our society beyond the bounds of what we, can truly understand.
And yet, this process of exalting the human condition, recreating ourselves, of taking the best that mankind has to offer. It is the opportunity that we can only dream of, where we can lessen the burden for those that will follow in our footsteps, for we do suffer right now as we are.
We take that which makes us human: our imperfection, our desire for greatness, our understanding that we can not truly comprehend. And we do usher it forward into something that we can believe in. That we can fight for, that we can realise, even though understanding that it might be hopeless, unreasonable, unthinkable, unimaginable.
But from that place of darkness, we can light a bonfire within our own hearts, that is ever growing, ever consuming, capable of ushering forward something that we can feel, that our children can experience. For they might not, never, truly grasp the light that will come from our ever glowing presence, but they will most certainly feel the warmth that we can forge through our own hands and our labour.
For we can declare our love for a world that is yet to be born, and they can live and breathe the air, and touch the grass. That’s beautiful isn’t it, our capacity to sacrifice beyond the bounds of reason.
Bestowing dignity, even past the moment where our mortal hearts will stop bearing fruit.
Where the hands of those who suffer are no longer deprived of meaning.
While hope does glorify the moments, even beyond our wildest of visions.
