A Priori

Land free from sin
The dispute of generations
Continues to rage and bellow;
Hell may have existed
There
In the past
Locked away.
The mind is both the prism
and salvation
for denial and subterfuge.
An inferno we place external
to mundane reality.
In our minds we are all benevolent;
Aesop lives today still.

Whose land are we on
And why does it matter
To say sorry, and acknowledge
Claim?

Neither sovereignty or disunity
May right past wrongs.
Words are Shallow
If followed by another message in a gun.
Secret, sacred, spirits of the land.
Wherever we got there are secrets
But unity helps us understand;
Divsions made of malice and greed
Be damned!
They were here first.