Shall we now, forever, no longer pretend
That we have done anything less than sinned?
Whether stumbling through our ignorance,
From our hubris or through fate or history.
If saints all, we would still plead unaware
Of acting less than noble, acting like we care.
Not everyone in every time, beginning until now
But so many, we have forgotten why, or how.
With tension in the world bristling
We walk past the graveyard whistling.
Whether at the stroke midnight or in bright sunlight
We are taught, be afraid but schooled to fight.
More often, we would be better off to flee,
Yet, sense gone, anger screams to drown the sea.
What can I do to make my voice heard?
Speak more softly? It sounds absurd.
If I do not shout the madness, the raging excess,
Refuse to sprout my prophet’s long, tangled beard,
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