Versions Of Truth Poem by Donald Abonyi

We have the illusion of time
Accumulating primitively;
Seeking the dark
Even though we are black

Leaving by the names
We are called
Confirming the curiosities of others
Who claim they found us

Actually, we are lost
Like an open secret
From our own self

We clamor for change
But secretly wish for no tomorrow
For the change we seek
Is only in our dreams

Same faces in positions
When will tomorrow come?
Our dream of change
Must it take more than it turn?

More than five hundred years have past
Mother Phoenix's still in flight
No room for the young!
The old is the truth

If we are not barren
Then, we are still asleep
It's time to wake up
We need to find ourselves.