The Lost Poem by Blake Foxx

I miss them so, those hearts as one.

The way they came together and formed
it all, holding it firm.

When they gripped it in their dirty palms,
letting its light rain throughout.

If we still had any grasp of it, the lost would
not be just that.

If we grasped it, grasped ideal in its very essence,
we could bring back the lost and make this land change.

We could save the world from polution,
spread wings and fly to the heavens.

If we had the lost, and their ideas, we
would have always prosperred in peace
and in wealth.

For the lost created all that is sane today.

Only we, the behemoths of life, forgot how
we all came to be and forgot what it was
to grasp idea in ones hand.

One day the lost will return, and when they
do, hopefully, just maybe life can begin anew...