Friday, April 17, 2015

Possibilities


























there is a silence here,
it grows like a whisper,
a quiet, controlled pause,
a small, knowing glance,
a foreign substance,
speaking a language
all its own;
we have become a nation of whores,
selling our children to the highest bidder,
devouring their inheritance
for a pittance,
accepting the consequences,
with no thought for tomorrow,
trapped within the madness
of the method,
replacing character with content;
ends justifying the means;
false prophets, in love with
the sound of their own voices,
forever searching, but never seeing,
forever finding, but never understanding,
unaware, unsuspecting;
sometimes knowing the answers,
is not nearly as important
as imagining the possibilities;
the light of a new dawn
begins to break,
I am leaving this dark place,
going to a home unknown,
what tomorrow brings
does not matter;
for You will be there
to make it right,
You will be there to wipe away
every tear.
.

.

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