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The dying embers of originality
Soon to be snuffed by the waters of rehashed content
The new fire set ablaze by the short-lived sparks of passion
The campground of creation lively with vessels of creativity going to and fro
The campers eager to pitch their tents, the temporary houses of their ideas
The light of better things to come shining from above
Giving them a constant reminder of where they are
The eerie sounds of the night creeping in
The most timid becoming most determined
Knowing that this is the final stop, knowing they can not turn back
But hear! The wolf howls, the predators prepare to pounce
The prey must stand fast, for if they falter, all has been for naught
The light still has yet to come, the age of better things yet to grow
Time becomes the friend, time becomes the enemy
The greatest threat of all posed by suffocating veil of doubt
Descending upon all, trying to cover any remnants of their will
But oh! The will of the campers is far stronger, parting this veil
With unseen might!
They know the fire must last the night, or all shall fall to the cover of darkness
And be swept away by the predators that prey upon them
If this new fire, if these new sparks of originality can not last the night
To be seen by all those that come by morn
Then it will never be seen, the campground will be destroyed, the campers lost to us
But have no fear! For even if they lost the battle, they can still win the war!