Flow of Creation (first draft)

as the summer draws to a close
the young man constructs his prose,
sheltered from the chill of night
after the dark will follow the light,
the soul of creation flows in the veins
a million thunderstorms bright in the brain,
hurtling through the void of space
uncertain futures we all face,
as humanity rises to grace.

Sitting in a box of four black walls,
music echoes through these empty halls
only when the sun has risen
will we truly learn to listen
perhaps it is all for nought
but certainly worth a second thought
do we deserve? Do we preserve?
perhaps only time can tell,
but will we hear the wake-up bell?

is it all here by design and intent?
Are we simply beasts of descent?
Are we defined by the past,
or always malleable til the last?
so many questions just out of reach
some knowledge is not to teach
now is the time to learn,
our legacy is only earned.
Only through the power of word
our true nature can be heard.
tis not the time for conflict and war,
nothing is worth fighting for
when truth and beauty illuminate the earth
finally we can ascend from our turf.





And there we have it. This was my first real attempt at actually writing poetry, and I thought it went pretty well considering. Maybe one day I'll come back to this and polish it a bit but for now this will do just fine.