Original Poem: The Call

Would you call me brother
Or cousin, or son?
Is our blood so dissimilar
That we cannot coexist in
Living, breathing
Harmony?

From communities to inhabitants
Of the same zip code
Neighbors to acquaintances
To strangers we go.
We to I.
Us to me, my, mine.

This is not yet a wasteland
But a wasted land.
Not yet a cacophony
Although chaos rings loud.
For there is a voice on the horizon
Distant, soft, suffering.

Music descending to the ears of the hopeful
Noise soaring to the ears of the beast.
It is a call
A call to me, you, us:
Wake up from this reality
And dream again.

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