Restoration for the Lost

​The lost, you see,
Were stolen away.
And so the found can never communicate
With the lost.

To the cast-away
Society is a rebellious cause.
One rebel pursed against another,
Both drinking the kool-aid.

We can’t communicate!
We can't work together!
We don’t understand each other!
So we fight...

When you say God
I hear Hell
When you say Good
I think something Bad is coming my way.

I run
And you chase with badges and sirens
I tell the truth
And find out the truth is a lie.

We both figure this out.

I locate hand over mouth,
Afraid to speak.

So you do your charades 
And I do mine
And I wipe my vocabulary down to
The basic.

We don’t touch each other
We don’t smile
We don’t get excited
We try with one another.

And we agree,
Out there, above,
Is “Something Greater”
In general, anyway, we agree.

And the tempo changes
The trumpet sounds
It’s not deafening this time since
The bigger picture is painted on the wall.

And we determine
We have been tricked
And so we have failure in knowing one another
For your kind has always been Greek to me.

I’m alive
And you’re alive
And maybe shaking hands is a sin
But so is pointing fingers.

Something has to change!
Something has got to give!
Where is the rebellion in the streets?
Where does the darkness hide?

You reply,
“The darkness hides all-around.
The gods you worship
Are thieves.”

"What is stolen must be returned."
“Restored,” I said.
The words are,
"What is stolen must be restored."