Shades of Twenty-Twenty vision lie beneath abandoned cities packed with disregarded lessons of the centuries before. Finally the veil has lifted, there’s a purpose in tomorrow and the memories are fading from the year that brought the war.
Looking forward to commencement, parties, proms, and lazy summer leading into jobs or college, we were only seventeen. Some of us were undecided, some had mapped a certain future in the pattern of their parents. Others saw behind the screen.
Since we entered kindergarten we’d been tested, used, and herded for political agendas on the nation’s shrinking stage so it wasn’t unexpected when democracy imploded in a world already reeling from the chaos of the age.
Virus after virus followed, claiming half the population. News from other countries filtered slowly through the riot zone ’til the power grid was severed. While democracy imploded we were scrabbling for survival. Now we live on wits alone.
Here I stand, the single remnant from a family of seven, flanked by unified companions whose intention can increase coexistence with the planet. Taking only what is needed, with the help of one another we will make a lasting peace.
“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it–always.” ― Mahatma Gandhi
Unanswerable questions plague the minds
of all who yearn for justice in the world.
Why must the battle rage relentlessly?
How can it be we never seem to learn
from all the brokenness and suffering
humanity inflicts upon itself?
Will any of us live to see the day
when sanity prevails across the globe?
But earthly eyes are not equipped to view
the picture from the timelessness of space.
Our singular assignment in this realm
of fitful dreams is training to connect
with love in all its forms. If Gandhi could
experience and witness all he did,
yet cling to the belief the universe
is ultimately kind, I’ll do no less.
I, too, have felt devoid of hope
while trapped within the narrow scope
of vigilance between the dreams.
When pessimism runs amok,
it’s difficult to stop and pluck
a thread of reason through the seams
that bind the soul’s imaginings.
But past the point of “All is Lost”
exists a realm where Fear is crossed
with Love, and there resemblance ends.
Forgotten soon, life’s petty woes
reveal themselves as beggar’s clothes
unfit to touch the royal skins
of you and me and all our friends.
Voices clamor for an ear
open to the faintest note of
pessimism, doubt or fear
harboring a secret motive
poised to drive the spirit down.
Hope’s the nail and hate’s the hammer.
Songs of love alone will drown