Once of this generation it was spoken
Behold them, behold them
Behold them painters
Who on the canvass of honesty and service
Will paint a society of tranquility and truth
But alas I see that generation
Armed with brush and palette
Painting with well practiced strokes
But on the canvas of self gratification
With colors of dark greed and crimson lust
Why? I ask, why?
Why paint a mess when you can a masterpiece?
Once of this generation it was echoed
Behold them, behold them
Behold them builders
Who with the blocks of dedication and commitment
Will build a society of justice and wealth
But alas I see that generation today
Prepared for work as it were
Not to build but to demolish
The few structures there are
Left us by our noble fathers
What? I ask, what?
What will be spoken of this generation after our last sun
sets?
But then, I hear a voice within
Saying:
This is not how the story ends
For this is a generation of rebounders
Though it seems fallen off a precipitous cliff
Will yet rebound to great and lofty heights
For this is a generation of victors
Though it seems submerged in an avalanche of shame and
defeat
Will yet fight its way out
Until covered in a confetti of honor and victory
You are the generation
Moving with the mandate of El-Lyon
Sent to change the existing order
Of futility, negativity and mediocrity
And usher in a new social order
Where the benchmark
Is the excellence and perfection of heaven.
Ovie Mordi, Copyright 2010
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