For new possibilities
new people,
new places,
there must be a new age.
Transcendentalism
must be reformed,
for this fresh cage
we linger in,
high on
forever.
We run our fingers across the bars;
it's the sound of newspapers
and tabloids, selling.
The noise use to be structured verse;
That was delicate language,
for a rigid, old polite age.
This is a merciless, strange cage
made of the same hands,
gripping each
in isolation
forever.
Delilah Miller
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/america-forever/
