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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=491817" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Our Progeny....</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">there are so many things that we cannot really have<br>sometimes we complain, feeling the injustice, disgruntled over<br>an unfairness, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">when we were young, we wage a rebellion, <br>about a system that did not satisfy our longings, that give us pain</div><div style="margin:10px 0">many died, the system is cruel, many suffered, because they are<br>too unforgiving, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">those who still live, spend their dignities in prison cells<br>hidden from the light of the sun, the promises of the day, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">we who live in the silence of our disgust have chosen the silence<br>we too suffer, <br>we die so many deaths everyday<br>we want to bury ourselves <br>but our progeny stopped us</div><div style="margin:10px 0">now we are attuned for all the other things that we cannot have<br>we embraced more silence, we have become numb and we claim some slices<br>of this wisdom</div><div style="margin:10px 0">in our hearts we cultivate this culture of indifference<br>like rats deprived of our fields, we transfer from one hollowness to <br>another</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the things that we cannot have have become more real<br>as real as our tired hands, our fed up brains, our decimated human<br>existence</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we have worked so hard, yet the things that we cannot have <br>still remained hanging above us like ripe fruits beyond the reach of our calloused hands</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>we begin to accept these things that we cannot really have<br>we bowed to their being unreachable, we focus our sights on the ground, soft, dry sands, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">we take a handful, and all of them slip from the hold of our palms from the slits of our fingers</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we have so much of these things now, and they have become innumerable.<br>our young who have become bold and brave shall come in, to repeat<br>what we have started, and unless they win</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we still can never have them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=491817" data-title="Our Progeny.... de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="there are so many things that we cannot really have
sometimes we complain, feeling the injustice, disgruntled over
an unfairness, 

when we were young, we wage a rebellion, 
about a system that did not satisfy our longings, that give us pain

many..."></div>
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