ISOLATION 2020
There will be time to murder and createÂ
As there has always been.Â
But for now this time is for the waiting Â
To be a servant to that which comesÂ
Whether desired or shunned andÂ
to honor our planetary hospice.Â
This is the time to dig a grave Â
where we may lie, a culture of isolates. Â
Alone with ourselves,Â
among the soylent earth where our well honed thoughts
have been replacedÂ
with half truths and outright lies.Â
In order as we have been promised, so we may rest easy,Â
as we succumb to a life deadened by a dry grey skyÂ
which provides little shelter to where we may hide.Â
Will we then presumeÂ
that this is the measure of our lives?Â
Where we amble through half deserted streets Â
in search of Heaven, Â
for a witness, or anyone that mightÂ
be willing to mark this time with us.Â
Alas, alone we find ourselves,Â
permeated by the stench of our looking the other way.Â
Lost at the horizon from where we came,Â
without the courage or conviction to journey a new path forward,Â
amid the burnt out forests once lush and greening.Â
Searching for a place to lay our head as our barrenness takes holdÂ
and we retreat into the darkness of our forgotten souls.Â
A dark so rich and wild with abandon Â
that might house us all in true love Â
and a faint promise of a new beginning.Â
A dwarfish light appears just at the corner of
our thirst and imagination, Â
threatening to end our precious isolation.
The only place we know offers the truth of our being.Â
Sought after through those dark nights of pilgrimage,Â
when we knew who we wereÂ
and who we might be.Â
There will be a time to murder and create.Â
That time again, may be now.Â