Each new year is embraced
With the dropping of a ball,
The illusion that all things are now original,
Yet the stench of old wreaks havoc
On the hopeful,
Those longing for a new normal.
True change does not exist
With the facade of a new year.
True change occurs in the heart
Of a people, a nation, a world.
Slabs of pride, prejudice, and promotion
Harden the heart’s potential;
Leaving the world to turn in rotation
Until the juggler drops a ball again
And crowds of people cheer
Happy new year…
So, I ask..
What will be of this year?
Will some go beyond Iphone apping
And pictoral uploading
To encounter a real personal conversation and lens free view
Not to mention a friend’s actual physical embrace?
Will well intended politicians be heard
Or swept like dust under another agenda,
The hope of a nation lost forever
In a muddy swamp of fantastical ideals?
Will souls keep searching
While preachers keep selling
A cheap imitation of real peace
By way of conformity and external frenzy?
Who will have the answer
When this year’s archived
In eternity's hall of forgotten dreams
And the dreamer is memorialized
In an obit that most people won’t read?
Meanwhile,
People are mingling, Starbucks is still selling
Facebookers are religiously poking and ignoring;
Students are borrowing, politicians are still delaying,
Children are gaming, checks are bouncing,
While crowds of people keep on cheering…
Happy New Year
~2011 Vaughn Wood
No comments:
Post a Comment