Those Without A Name


Who ripped the torch from the sky to make the fire alight, who stole the seeds and made them stay, who built great walls for trees and tamed the wild currents that flowed. Resurrecting a fallen hero to control the masses, one eye always left open, the children fail not to disobey thy fathers hand. What became of imagination, but a quieted sense of reason, what became of spontaneity, what became of love, as it is commanded from above without a change of season. The blind honor of victories restores the false flags waving upon high, the extensions on the map outlines the wealth of nations, what eats away at our core, our own foundation. History’s hardest lesson will be the admission of error, the frailty of our condition, enslaved by the same that set us free. Redemption lies in the heart of compassion without ever a need for the blinding light of fear.

– Josh Fleming

Original Image by: Unknown, taken form Flickr Commons, edited by Josh Fleming


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