The careless devotion that marked our youth.
Those days of arrogant glory.
We were Indigo children,
born to teach this world,
its purpose, its meaning, its faith.
We knew everything!
Prophets and Messiahs, laden with hope,
Godsend to salvage mankind,
but we failed…
We turned eighteen…
Listen to Crooked River by Dana Falconberry, as long as it’s available
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This was a lovely poem and the music amplified its tone…thanks!
Thanks for your kind comment. At first I was in doubt about the music, but in the end I think it’s a nice contrast to the somewhat grotesque poem.