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;

an ends justified by its means.

Blind guides,
false prophets
in love with the sound
of their own voice,
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 never known,
what tomorrow brings
does not matter;

for You will be there
to make it right,
You will be there to wipe away
every tear.
.
.