It’s now, it’s that time of the century.
And all you can say is you’re ready.
The moment is yours, the future is born,
And it came a long way to capture your soul.
It dangles the cure by twisting a thorn,
Not for you to obey, yet to fix on your goal.
It scares and allures, invades any shore,
And you’re left as a prey, only few steps behind,
When you’re still unsure what phase you head for.
It knows you’re enslaved, like most in your kind,
Who’ll grow insecure at a free entry door,
At the suddenly paved avenue of their times.

And the moment is pure, and the light is reborn,
As it came a long way for to summon your prime ;
When life is obscured with all you had sworn
It clears enough days to freshen your mind.
Unless you adjourn a filtering dawn,
Abide in your haze and partly go blind,
This page you will turn, or soon will be torn,
You’re either in chase or easier to bind.

Oh, the strain you endure in your quest for more…
Every page has a lure, when not fully scored.
And the mourning is rude, yet no past you adorn,
Rewinding old views of the sculpture you’re from.
How brittle and crude, it was looking forlorn ;
If you played your own muse, well, embrace your freedom.

It’s now, it’s that time of a century.
And all you can swear is « I’m ready ».

—

(Tableau : André Devambez – « La Charge »)