The Crucible (A Thought Piece)

We Are Within The Crucible, Amidst A Roaring Sea Of Flames And Peril. The Heat Is On And That Ominous, Unrelenting Paradiddle That Your Ears Caught Wind Of Is The Inexorable Din Of An Inbound, Fast Approaching, Revolution. It Is The Sound Of Dominoes Vengefully Clobbering Against The Next, With Every Collision Setting In Effect The Diffusion Of A Contagious Spirit Of Courage. It Is The Song Of The Lid Dancing Above The Volcano That Is Our Boiling Heads. Yes, We Are A Generation Of Hot-Heads. We Have Always Been. Watchu Thought? Have You Not Witnessed With Your Own Two That We've Been Fuming From All Pores Like The Temples Of The Same Collieries That Stoke Your Politicians Bellies Fat? Even Before We Were Thrust Into The Jaws Of The Novel Monster, Our Collective Aura Was Ebullient, Fanning Out Into Every Space Cardinal With The Verve Of Our Youth, As Sickened As We Are, In Tow. But We Could Wait. We Could Wait Until Restrictions Are Eased Or Done Away With In Entirety. We Could Wait Until The Vigour Of Our Youth Wilts And Crumbles, Leaving Behind Nothing But The Carved Shell Of So Long Lost Ambition. We Could Wait Until The Scourge Of Our Age Is Woven Into The Spine Of Our Nation's History And Therefore, The Character Of Its People. We Could Wait Until It Is Our Turn To Scald Our Tongues Scolding Our Sons And Daughters For Reciting Our Battle Cries Verbatim. But We, Are Your Sons And Daughters. We See The Pain Within You. Were It Not So Gut-Wrenching To See A Parent Silently Drowning In Their Own Stream Of Tears, We Could Find Solace In The Thought That At Least You Do Not Get To See What Pain Lies Behind Your Gleaming Eyes Nor The Dongas That Burrow Down To Your Over-Bearing Smiles. We Know It Is A Luxury You Can't Afford For The Sake Of Keeping In Seams. But We See Those Threads, Stretched And Wearing Thin. O' Our Pillars Of Strength Have Been FAR TOO STRONG, For Faaarrrr Tooo Loonng. We Do, Owe Our Own, As Your Own, Sons And Daughters The Same Kind Of Mercy You Strive To Stuff Our Lean Minds With. Thus We Say “No More Passing The Torch Of Estranged Observer Of Tears Of A Mother, Tears Of A Father, To A Single Generation More.” One Way Or Another, We're Leaving This Crucible A Better Nation. Mother, Don't Try To Stop Me. Do Not Try To Stop Me, Father. For You Are Exhausted. Le Lapile, Re A Bona. Mme Rona, Sickened, Re Lapile!