Beauty in the Past

Editor’s Note: What follows is part of a cross-blog survey that explores what Central Eurasia might look like fifteen years from now.

May I please go back in time?
I don’t want this industrial world anymore.

Where
Everything
Is measured
In minutes
And Dollars.

Please let me go back in time
Where my ancestors were warriors;
Bareback on wild horses.
Where horses were spirits;
Spirits of Bravery and Freedom.

Where
No car could
Wake me
From my
Disturbèd
Sleep.

Instead I want to hear
The wolf crying to the pale moon.
Where the moon can be seen
In the dark and deafening sky.

Allow me to go back in time-
To see my brothers build
The yurt.
And my mother preparing
The warm fire in the middle.
And I, a child, dancing
Around her legs.

Where
No one
Can take me
Away-
Not even
Your babysitter.

I beg you: Let me go back in time
To see the green blanket
Of nature spread itself
In front of me
Like an eternal sea
Where waves never touch a coast.
And you cry: “All this space! All this space!”

And if you were to appreciate this space
And if you knew the meaning of happiness
And if you were a bit more like me
Would you let me go back in time?

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