New Superman

It is a myth as old as time
a man who saves with just his mind
Where is this guy, as the world projects
sadness and sorrow they cannot forget.

I walk the streets alone with my thoughts
a soul in a body at such a loss
to comprehend our fatal blow
leaves room simply for us to grow.

But who will lead a broken people
we have lost our hold in the closest reaches
as we look around and fight ourselves
a silent hero reads from the shelves

Fantasy is the genre of choice
for our living hope, such small a voice
but in her chest beats and organ of love
we shall follow him as Noah did his dove.

Who is this hero, where does he sleep
when will his miracles begin to seep
the consciousness of man is far from ready
while this tiny soldier holds her mind so steady

I fear my words are much to simple
to collect the attention of my brothers and sisters
our hero waits, at a desk they can be found
or during recess, just clowning around.

It is the children who wield the power
to heal our world with a great love shower
as the world unfolds and we stand so lost
those minds we need come at a great cost.

Let them teach us from inside out
of what is true and how to shout
to run and play without a care
I sit down to learn, but do you dare?