Will tomorrow come again and will it last this time. This time with golden fire around righteous lives- making it targetable to admire. Last so the black marked souls of society can and will see what realisim is, past their eyes of green paper. Their paper will burn and all will go to ashes as noon hits. Again, replay it in that abstract play, covering the world. With most colors that have never delighted the eyes. The colors of tomorrows, untamed passion of new and used lives raising and falling. Close to dawn when skin is fully melted and all covers are taken, people will see the sky as it comes to be more of a pool of flying ashes with waving lines. There will be no mortals loving, but immortals who can know love. Animals will come to talk and use voice to tell men what is wrong and still men will queastion. So with claws of peace each beast will cut a human's ear off. Blood comes out blue so it is true in and out. Panic rush ones with out the flame of knowledge and righteousness. Running toward help but still asking, why? Mother earth comes to man, standing in an old oak tree with arms strecthed out. Singing with the wind she says come to me. Now spinning and spinning she shows humans what is wrong. Look, she says but still the beings of tomorrow ask, why? With her heart broken she turns away whispering to the leaves, making them fly with the ashes and into the eyes. NO vision for the humans now and still more blood coming, why? Unheard cries from around tomorrow's world and still no answer, why? On all fours the wonder of not seeing, not hearing anything, fills the minds. Those people of golden fire come to see tomorrow's pause of light. Their hearts sadden and so each one holds onto one on fours. Holding their hands and picking them up. The lives of the question ones need help from ones who lived knowing. They hold their hands and put it to their chest hoping that they will know. Some still questioning, why? So they burn and become the sky. Touching their chests, some start to realize it, where it is. Realizing makes the golden fire surround them, making them all fill the earth with light once again. Today a man may stand and speak or sit and write agreeing to many poets and their words of what man really wants and is asking for. Weither it is a letter or in person, human's show love. Hopefully you won't have to be told or shown ot forced to feel but you know it is there. Now tomorrow is coming again and this time it will last.