Seeds by Bader A. Shehab

It was prophesied thousands of years ago… Perhaps dating back to creation and immortalization, even long before Genesis itself…
The telepathic subtle emblems, graffiti on narrow alleys, worded hordes of poetry, and conjugal meetings of the great elements.
The mind would thrive on the elixir falls, where it would snow in hell, and pour lump sum of rain in the Sahara.
The hands that worked the last finer linings, engravings on either side of this column of hope and knowledge, which I inscribe upon my every last letter.
The muscles that twitched at a blinding pace, defending these walls, the closed windows, doors, and children.
The armor that shone proudly on a stead, marching victoriously upon the sands of gold with gifted trinkets, I borrowed their glory for my peace…
The angelic wings that descended from the hills of a thousand miles, as if vanishing into the silver lining of the skies…
The rising of civilizations, dynasties, monarchies, empires, and hierarchies… planted into the roots of fidelity, unity, and pride.
The castles of gold, built upon the Solomon ruins, upon dying fossil fuels, staining the streets of concrete, structures that rise, of steel and metal…
The Riches that manifest in the fogs of demonic plans, fading into fathom-depth wallets, layers of plots to rule this Earth, inks blots on a residue.
You are the seeds that shape this world.
You are the hopefuls and dreamers with your gold and silvers.
You are the world leaders without protest and tax-free.
You are the Kings of Chevron*.
Fuck all of you.

* “King of Chevron” – “National Nathem” by Lana Del Rey

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