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.

.

.