Reflecting on the Political Season

The times are a mess,

we seem to be stuck,

in a thick muddiness.

It grips at our very being,

our hearts hurt every day.

The big blue ball spins,

hurtling us through space,

yet, hope is falling away.

The voices are loud, 

just loud, no truth,

volume is the key,

facts need not apply,

the homeless person shudders,

the young black man wonders,

a small child prays.

The spinning vortex, 

drags us into oblivion,

no Oz, no Emerald City,

these Munchkins devour.

The threshold beckons,

the temptation to restore,

that which was lost,

in the whips and chains.

This voyage is not easy,

our sails are set.

Steering into the light,

instead of into the dark.

The sea is stormy,

and Leviathan breaches above,

yet, we sail ever forward,

knowing that light and life,

lay out in that storm.

Grace and love, 

the land of hope and dreams,

Not the land of despair,

is what we seek.


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