Preach to the choir
that raves and aspires.
Raise high and pump fist;
shirk what is the jist:
this is human,
this pain
and so worthy
shit rains,
pump arms and
at the future
you crave
to be loud
and so proud
thrice these lions
will snap
at a chance of a cloud
we’re born and endowed
take a breath
and exist
in this beauty:
to the sky, blank of mind
feel the swell left behind
there a soldiers that weep
green pastures we’re to keep