One is either in charge of one's destiny
or subordinate to the destiny of systemic progress.
One is either a conscious organism or
a somnolent machine.
One is either an embodied soul
or a random number in the data-bank of some
impersonal meta-computer.
One is either heading down the right path or
heading towards oblivion.
One is either aware or not.
Wake from your sleep, sweet child.
The time is ripe for revolution.
Corporations are at it again.
They have turned on that odious mechanical hand
that steals our wealth from our back pockets.
Everyone is insolvent.
Everyone feels used.
They have it all, and they are just
sitting on it.
If a great conflagration swept over
the earth, they would surely fly to another planet
in ships composed of all our precious resources.
Sweet child, they're the 1%, the true minority.
They're the plutocrats, the tyrants, the shadows
that control.
One is either questioning and wondering
or despairing and dying.
One is either building a better world
with imaginative strength or accepting
the insipid nature of the given.
One is either transcending the limits
of culture or reinforcing them with every word.
One is either alive to venerate the fleeting
happiness of each being or is alive to broadcast
enmity and self-loathing in every direction.
One is either at peace or not.
Sweet child, rage against the dying of
the light!
Hold this globe in your intrepid hand and shower
it with your best tears.
May the best crops rise from her splendorous soil.
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