The Prodigal Sons

Their fathers, alone, each found the new ark;
With strength in purpose, they labored for land.
Their prophets foretold a dream:
All trees will ply their own route to Heaven.
The sons delivered and built the estate-
Pursuing a dream, they subdued the land.
A great nation rose and challenged the world,
Inviting the new and forsaking the old.
The dream bestowed was a fearsome burden;
The prophets were lost to men of illusions.
In valiant delusion, the nation met conflict.
The prodigal sons of the American Dream
Squander the fortune in forgotten purpose.
The children of war refuse their father's chimera,
Sundering the brainchild of a generation's hope.
And now, as we witness these hard times of folly,
We look to the ones who made our land great.
The breath of a great and despairing specter
Suffuses the land, passing tree after tree.
And like sapling ashes from the tangled forest floor,
And Time's mystic tree that falls and falls,
Prodigal sons of the American Dream-
And America's angry, alone without faith.
Forget not the visions of the wandering prophets,
Come home to your land.and to your father's domain.

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