Your time may seem a bygone, man,
but it shall come again.
Lift your fists and fill your breath,
fathom-full with joy.
Surely as you live and stand,
your time shall come again.

Your time to lift the ones you love,
that they may reach the crowning boughs.
To hold and hush and harness them,
and never ever beat them.

Your time to stride ahead and find a path.
To still your mind and listen.
To see that nature is your friend.
To let it give you comfort.

Your time to forget what your schooling taught.
That you must line up to their altars,
and bend your knee to force.
Instead fill the ballots,
to the brim with naught.

Your time is not a bygone, man,
your time is here and now.
But only if you listen up.
Only if you hear.

There is a stillness in your soul,
and you can bear it witness.
That stillness is a gentle mover,
that nothing can subdue.

You know of violence and duress,
of which the world has plenty.
Your naked eye may well with tears,
but you may not avert it.
See instead the rot that festers,
among the men of power.
You do not need to raise a force,
to topple those who rule you.
Just withhold your acquiescence and
attend to peace and union.

Seek out a friend and shake his hand.
Laugh and hearten up.
You need a strong alliance.
With those who will not grovel.
Those who will not steal.
Those who see as you and I,
that all of us are free.