“You know what it feels like losing home—why can we only see it for our own?” 

We scroll down our Twitter, and we spot the wreckage.

Man standing on rubble, a Koala lying dead

Deforestation for GMO-infestation. Do we stops scrolling? We don't stop scrolling.

Oil or the poor, the politicians keep polling; is this where it will end? 

Right here, on this damn site, will we look up and defend? 

Out of our pour the Tigris, the Euphrates, the Icarian Sea. Throw an old line out to see and see if there is anything to eat.

Our eyes drop forever to the dusty tomb, and we can't act. How do you live in this world? You can’t win, you cannot act.

We are drugged, we are asleep, we cannot awaken our souls because we are taught to ignore our demons instead of allow their ambition to ignite our souls. 

We romanticize the bucolic notion of an ultra-modern American Dream, but we know that we cannot win, not with this corporate king and our sleeping eyes. 

We can choose to work our entire eighty-three-year-long existence toiling away at a cubicle inside of a grey prison that reads “For the Better Good: Save the Poor!” and die. We can learn to live with the insoluble fact that this is meaningless, that humanity has destroyed humanity. 

But if you look up into the sky, into the sun, your eyes become the moon, and the kingdom will arrive. We can lull Earth’s gravity, we can bend the seas.

No, we won't fall apart, one fleshy string at a time, in this mango-shaped space. No puppet on a blood-soaked string—human feet on koala bones—but if we can't stay awake, the world will know that the Kings are dead.

A wrinkle in time, where the hell is it; together, we can protect the worlds from darkness with crystal shards, with our own very hands. We stand together. United. As one.

 But if we forget, if we do, then suddenly, the worst crime against humanity isn’t murder but fooling millions into believing the future mantra that good prevails. Goodness can't act on its own, it is us, it is unity, that propels it. It is the work of hands.

Why? I'll tell you why! Because monsters reside in those who sit in thrones. Like the corrupt kings of the past, we have thrones, but we don't sell souls.

Where's your Mephistopheles? Will we trade money for our soul? Will we cower to The Man instead of stand up once and fight like wild kids, like the free-flying Peter Pan?

... It starts with one idea: "we can."