The road is hot, sweat drips and thoughts of freedom are erupting into chants of anti establishment war cry's. All streets in Byron are flooded with angry hippies, established chippies and passionate protesters.
The government and large corporations are raping the land once again for their bank accounts. Bastards!!!
The people are not inspired to support a government that allows exploitation of our land, they want a renewable based resource system, that supports the ecosystem and sustains the quality of land and life around.
Half way through the protest, we stop in the middle of the road and all sit. The tar is burning and the hearts are melting into a space of unity and sound. Drums are reverberating into the depths of our consciousness's. Are we waking up?
Or is this another fad. A horn sounds and it's the signal to continue to march. Dancing and smiling the group will weave through the streets to the ocean where music and speakers finish the protest off.
The ocean greats the mob with its accompanied breeze and spacious aesthetics.
My skin is burnt, feet almost blistered, hands are recovering from two hours of drumming.
Pain and pleasure are the same in essence. I hear a man beside me spit truthful poison out of his mouth,
"This will not change a thing, that our efforts are all in vain."
He's most likely right but silence him and the mind, best to do something then nothing, stick it to the man, and raise your fists cause the world needs Spiritual warriors!
HOOORAA,HARE BOL, HOORAA
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