the hidden foe

Two moons fore I was five my dream arrived in nineteen-sixty-eight
But one dime more proved to be a century too late
For forty-three of forty-eight years I've watched hatred grow
Darkness sprouts from underneath dried poplars bloody flow

What is the answer to the mystery of hate?
Is it to raise every child to grow up being great?
Is it becoming a superstar without embracing fame?
Is it giving till it hurts each and everyone the same?
Can I be free if I refuse to see one color blinding me?
Can I solve the riddle with so little self-esteem in me?
Is it to stroke every ego so that no one can complain?
Is it making sure the homeless don't get left out in the rain?

Hope is all I have to expose the hidden foe
It is everything I feel and it's nothing that I know
It is not my opinion, it's in my flesh and my bone
It is the voice of my silence and the pain in my moan
Can I say the word never heard that will set all of them free?
Can I speak without a sound while this thunder deafens me?
It is the beating of my heart that would beat it to death
It is my lungs that would siphon its every living breath

But even death can't destroy a seed destined to regrow
Only living souls can shout the sound of letting go