"I have a dream," King cried, faith-blind,
when he believed the world could open its eyes
and feed off his soul-building hope and live
(I am the pure brilliant moment of joy,
I am the crushing disappointment)
Sweaty explorers breached the unknown
armed only with what they could carry
and their faith in the future of possibility
(I am the courage and the paralyzing fear,
I am the spine-tingling anticipation)
A fresh-faced boy ventures off to war,
an innocent infantryman too young to drink
but of the legal age for sacrifice
(I am the love letters yellowing with age,
I am the hopeful light in the window)
Watch the timid smile of the quiet student,
cheeks infused with rosy insecurity,
as she parts her lips and breathes out beauty
(I am the poet crouched alone in the darkness,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world)