college level 3-4
our destinies were born in archaic winds. oceans that we’ll never taste. grey skies we’ll never feel. ancient hymns we’ll never hear. a landscape still forming. changing. unhindered by maps. not yet observed by demographers. but you can still sense it if you stand still enough and listen to the past and feel which way the earth is pulling you.
ancestors without names. we were written from archives of genes that had no clue they’d create artists and anarchists that fall as far from the tree as you can get.
my history has more hegemony over me than i’d like. i can see the mistakes, the mishaps play across my skull like picture frames. spilled coffee. missed dates. unrequited letters. i’m sorry.
regrets in full regalia. its hard to move on sometimes when your subconscious is dressed up in grandiose memories you’d rather forget.
our destiny was already determined. we’ve got a predisposition for losing ourselves in books and for swallowing our depression and for staying up too late.
but existing in our history isn’t conducive to living in a world moving faster than the speed of sound. sonic booms disturb daydreams. there is no room in our crowded cities for wandering stories and primordial lullabies.
we find stories in graffiti. monuments. icons of unadulterated rebellion. we see the world through different eyes, all these generations later.
do not traduce us. you do not know us. you don’t know the taste of our words or the pulse of our grandmothers. we are creating art. there is no higher calling. do not judge us.
see. we were born to be the viceroys of relic nations. this is what our ancestors started. our hearts were already beating on stage thousands of years before we were born. we are only temporary. fleeting.
our destiny was already decided.
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