Enfants perdus

A poem that embraces the prophetic license of the poet's speaker.

Long have I been called Ethereal
And there is much I’ve seen, I feel
That you must be warned. Oh take heed:
The Machine-gun men move with speed.
They will sell all, and sow despair
In this land that was never fair.
Ev’ry child will have only Past.
Yes, this is what has been forecast.
So lost, lonely and neglected
You will lurch nowhere, dejected.
They left you not a single thing
And zero will come of nothing.
Sing you shall not for joy is gone
And it does not return anon.
Astray, within the dim darkness
You march together; the Hopeless
Children of one land, of one sand.
Now is the time, young men, to stand
Up; guard that which is still sacred
Before it is desecrated.
You have been warned so please, take heed:
The Machine-gun men move with speed.