oh all you little children,
be still now and listen:
a lullaby to lower your eyelids
at the end of a long day, something
to soothe you into sleep. let the
darkness of the day pray upon you
no longer, fading into the alabaster
of bleached sheets. oh you
taiwanese toddlers and indian
infants: hear the sterile, serene sound
of my voice, and let your heartbeat creep
stealthily into the simple, singular
blackness of the night. let the waters
wash you away to the four corners
of the earth; let the winds carry your soul
up high to the heavens. let the worries
of tomorrow pray not upon your
tired mind. oh you children in china,
in thailand, in eastern turkey:
feel the quick sting of the hypodermic,
and dream a little dream for all eternity.
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