When man becomes unhaunted by his shadow––
Once the atomic memory of his predation expires at last––
Anarchy at last will know its way into hands,
And a new age of humanity will burst open upon them all––
Not as a wildflower that had to bloom––
But as a cultivar of surrender to the wisdom of the moon.
To the tides of conviction––evanesce roots.

The big cat behind us were the evils that we held onto and groomed––
they were not the mothers of invention but the fathers of sacrifice––
they were made in the moments we first slayed our predators, if you believe in evolution.
The schism was organic; the machine carried us through;
Could there ever be a true monkey wrench that a person could imagine,
spacetime would implode upon the saddle of said butterfly, and all would be forgotten.

If we had a time machine, some early meta human could illustrate
how little we’ve come with cunning aplomb, I assure you
if you believe in the powers of love.
If it happened, it belongs.
But when it happened, it was like this:

The landscape overcome, emboldened seeds of ego––
When luxury became––when the war on the land was won––
The food chain at last behumbled, gave rise to pride and gayness.
Pride confounded love and became a part of it’s fabric.
Gayness perhaps intensified but always was?
Love is just but consciousness––
And some believe it begins on the cellular level––
But all lovers in this universe, no matter how small––
They all understand at least some part of man’s knowledge––
Just like man may understand some part of God’s––
And therefore––
Love is eternal, and love envessels through the evolution of us all.
Even if you don’t believe in God, this remains true.
Consider the story of the rise of humans according to paleoanthropologists:

When sweat evolved to needn’t bother––
Newfound gains of protein shocked the human system
And DNA responded to provide beefier brains for all;
at the same time fear subsided, sophistication increased––
learning was compounding into newfound wisdom––
humans were becoming the new king class of the jungle––
very much everywhere they walked;
they were very much too smart for everyone else in the Earth environment,
and it finally just happened to pan out this way after some couple million years
of firm occupation in the food chain with an omega, low beta role
in the predatory pantheon, which was ruled by bears, lions, crocs, etcetera,
and only by virtue of decent cunningness in all that while as an omnivore––
but it was nothing like now––
now humans were killer killers for sport––
It was a beautiful time––to see a people discover its new pride––
and it was all brought forth by consciousness, or love as I have called it.

Sins developed out of privilege––
privilege came at the cost of power––
power became the dust of time.
Anarchy was always the language of the meek,
But when man shed his predation, every man was king.
When anarchy became new nirvana––
Something out of reach in myth––
The forgotten state of a past once lived––
Every human shadow was a big cat’s lick.

Racism will hate to perish before man is ready to free his soul
From the superfluous chains of self-elected governments;
Nowhere close is man to a post war epoch––
Or maybe he isn’t––
But until man finds himself inside one, anarchy is a dream;
the lynchpin of any government is a spike of something mortal––it cannot last forever.
It is called War, and the need for it remains something sacred––
biology still selects for war and has been doing so since perhaps the rise of meat dinners.
World peace should probably cost man many wars, maybe some flirtation with an apocalypse:
One channel of ways in which anarchy can become.
But evolution cannot be rushed––indeed what comes is what must be.
Essentially man must elect others to govern himself until he becomes smarter at large;
few people on this planet would be ready for a better Earth.
Ideas of installing paradigm shifts for the masses––they don’t go nowhere.
Communism might seem acerbic and desperate to some,
but it was a step in the right direction, though anarchy’s destination remained forlorn
even in the eyes of big time early commies who defined the mold.
The big idea is to be like water.
Embolden does his death, return himself to Earth––
He invigorates inanimates––he outlives the bones of trees.
Anarchy was always the language of the meek.