Strange crafts on the Atlantic . . .
Insane crafts on the Mediterranean . . .
Father Time in a moment he feels he’s lived before.
Mama Nurture cringes as a dark part of his story repeats itself.
Greed was the seed. Evil was the plant. Grief was the fruit.
Beings traded for clothes
Women traded for mirrors
Men traded for spirits
Spirits traded for tobacco
A dreadful exodus on tempestuous waters, heaped on each other like sacks of beans on cargo ships…
A perilous migration on disturbed seas, cramped up in rubber boats, rocking atop waves of uncertainty…
Father Time finds himself in a horrifying scenario in the present which feels like his haunted past.
His story repeats itself as teary Mama Nurture prays her children will learn from the best teacher.
Greed is the seed. Evil is the plant. Grief is the fruit.
Dreams reduced to organs
Hope replaced with sex slavery
Ambition exchanged for bondage
Heirs of divinity deformed into lab rats
Terrifying trips through the slave coasts, bought and sold like higher breeds of livestock…
Nightmarish voyages through gusty, windswept deserts, huddled in trucks, sneaked through borders like contraband goods…
Father Time relives an awful moment as a vividly familiar scene from the unspeakable days of old recurs.
Mama Nurture hopes her children pay attention this time as his story repeats itself.
Greed the seed. Evil the plant. Grief the fruit.
Minds traded for matter
Souls traded for dust
Vessels traded for lives with no substance
Life traded for paper idol