The stone dead hand of the past clutches one last, desperate time at the reigns of power, temporarily buoyed by the ignorance of a fading generation passing inexorably into ancestry. There is yet one last glint of satisfaction while refusing to look ahead at the changes sweeping away their antiquated values and constraints. Let’s spin one last time round the dance floor to the last waltz as it feebly struggles for those notes which it can no longer sustain with any confidence nor stamina. The world has sustained many a wound by their hands and shall be once more jabbed before they are done, but there is still some hope it will not be enough to drag the future down into the grave with them. Hold on, children, and fight with all your might as only a final, clearly won battle shall be a sign that there is still a path for your descendants to travel upon. Challenge every injustice, deny every false equivalency, discard every polite euphemism and look upon your adversary with clarity, precision and honesty.
Walking with the broken rocks upon the heaving thrust of mountain echoes, movement becomes challenged. Something may have taken hold here, but its residue has since faded into the dust of winds long blown away. Though memory shards crack and splinter through the ice age history once foretold, there are now no more than fragments upon a beach receding beyond the breaking waves.