Living Worlds Apart, on a World Alike,

Distant Dreamers Dream of Distant Places,

Different Dreamers Dreaming but One Dream,

Under Different Rulers. Under Different Rules.

With Different Beginnings,
With Different UpBringings,

Causing Different Lives,
Causing Different Endings.

Lives and Endings nothing like Our Dreams.

For, in Truth, we are NOT THEIR Creation,
BORN to LOVE    
BORN to NOT Kill
BORN  to  SAVE    

Two Generations planting trees

We, "The Children of Creation."
The Cooperation that Creates.

Rulers were made by us, then we enslaved by them.

Our Rulers made by the Weakest of us,
those willing to follow mere rulers.

Rulers who speak loud, but do not hear.
Followed by those who listen but do not speak.

Parroting only the slogans of their rulers,
when not in Obedient Silence,

Turning our backs on our own Lives,
on Truth, Love, and God,
to fight, instead, for our Keepers,   these Plantation Owners,
at the cost of our own Lives, Our Dreams,
and those of our Brother's and Sister's across the seas.

We, killing ourselves to be a ruler's 'Heroes'.

But We, Life, is God's Dream. Our Dream.

Not Their's !

We, born free, without borders or beliefs,
then placed, into these ancient traps that we've created for ourselves...
...then 'Faithfully' , and 'Patriotically' ,
inflicting it upon our own defenseless, vulnerable children,
who trusted us to be Truthful...
...but we lied.
Repeating mere words.
words demanding our obedience to the writers of mere words, or else,
"Forever burn our eternal souls in their god's flaming hells.".
Mere words, those lies.

We ARE Truth, but now filled with the lies of mere words, those lies.

Our parents, wishing us ''Heaven'',
made us the slaves of those
mere words,
those lies.

Human Lives now slip away in conflicting thoughts and wars.
Lives stolen by this wasted, precious time in confusion.
Trapped in the twilight between what we are and what with think we are,
Trapped between beliefs and Truth.
Between man's words and God's Reality.


Each child peers out Searching for His Life

Can we escape? , Where can we go?

Where is that place ? . . .
. . . where the enforcers of medieval borders and beliefs,

  are not ! ?

Smoking Factories

And so, by day, we work in their weapons factories,
keeping their economy running, serving their needs.

Horn Rim Glasses

By Evening, we scurry chasing their Promises...
... their fads, fashions, and fames,
but knowing, Our Dreams are not bought or sold in their markets.

A shadow of a guard walking his post

By night, the patriots that guard the borders,
and the followers of the peddlers of empty promises,
and the faithful to the magic beliefs of ancient barbarians,
can only Dream of those Lives,   our Human Lives,
that can not be.  Not Here.  Not Now.  Not like this...

but Only in Distant Dreams.

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Created by Thomas T. Panto
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