When Will You Rise?

Tight-lipped Callow
of the Sprawling Greens of Innocence:
don't confuse your ignorance for illumination,
because the lights that shine in your eyes
fade as fast as wicks on wax candles that burn
to give twilight homes glowing warmth.

Self-Justified Sapling:
don't succumb to your overwrought
and under-thought fabrications,
proclaiming them as truths carved
into aged stones
serving them up as purification
to the squalid system whose absence
you long to see.

Dearest Sprout,
When will you awake?
When will your eyes widen to all truths?
And when will your mind force out all falsities
that imbue your embryonic roots?

When will you rise, oh child?
When will you be risen?

To become other than you,
other than me,
to be better than the comparison
and the tarnished visions your sad eyes see?

"Just a smile or a kind word could open up the gates of heaven."