The Lost Sea

THE LOST SEA Today I read some tweets, Discussing my right to exist. More specifically transitioning, From one gender to another. I have always believed, I am not transitioning at all. I am simply becoming me, Who I truly am, Who I was always meant to be. I see television programmes, Discussing if people like me should be allowed. Fuelled by people I have never met, An angry mob, an uninformed crowd. People with no idea of who I am, Nor a care of what they say. And yet I see how they behave, How they are afraid, Want to lock me away. They seem to think, They have a right, To look down upon me. To make judgements, About me, With blinkered eyes they do not see. What they refuse, Is what makes the world, Beautiful to me. I am not like them, They choose hate. They will probably win, A false hypocrisy. If they succeed, Standard issue will be the norm. Beautiful things, Lost to memory. A world bathed in grey, No more colour, No beauty, Just insanity. Then they will turn on each other, And blame anything, Out of consistency. Until they are left, To wander alone, In a world, With a dry sea. Hope remains, A bud will emerge, From the dust, Of the old tree. A hint of colour, Pushing hard, Rise through, The remains of the dead city. In its bloom, New beauty stands tall. It never died, It is for eternity. For those who hate, There is time, To change your mind, End this absurdity. (c) Jay Rose Ana