The phone stays silent
The mail box seems depressingly empty
There was no good news
Sometimes no news means death

Plans become so very difficult
When tomorrow is unknown, what does one do today?
When waking at 5:00 AM, does one return to sleep?
Is there an adventure to pursue so very early

There seems some things that need said
Yet there is a fear to speak
How does man know what to say?
So many by gones that should be left gone

The mind fills with regret from old times
Old pride is starting to break down
Old myths losing their power
Innocence is lost, and trust is broken

Speaking truth is difficult
Speaking truth to power, fearful
It is so easy to feel powerless
Power is sometimes a person, sometimes a mob

Moral superiority can so often be a justification
Freedom to do what is not allowed to another
A view that good intentions undo bad means
Yet, failing to see that we choose the means, but not the end

The world seems to be pushing, but where is unclear
There seems resistance at every path
The path of least resistance though is too slippery
Resistance is needed to find a footing

The heart is confused
Things were once clear and certain
Plans and dreams filled the heart
Today there seems no clear path

Clutter, silence, and a lot of questions
The pile of books yielding more questions
A world with faith in its own arrogance
How does a lone voice speak truth to this power?


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