You, the seeker of patterns,
In chaos and other matters.
What is it that you see?
Any reason you can’t show me?
For all I see is quite insane.
I was hoping you’d explain.
There’s a campaign and there is silence.
There’s disregard and there is violence.
What has happened to the gray?
Or thoughts that mirror what we say?
Seems it’s vanished overnight.
Or maybe muted out of fright.
Where, oh where does this go?
Any direction you can show?
This a view of trees and leaves.
Times like these such views deceive.
A forest, a land, a world or more.
These portend for what’s in store.
A pattern, a cycle, a direction,
A weaving, a union, a connection.
All are working toward that one thing.
This is what the future brings.
But what is that one thing?
And how from this will that thing spring?
It’s evolution to something greater.
It’s the hands of these creator.
It’s beyond a simple tell.
It’s a faith that all is well.
It’s not for you or for me,
But for what’s next, don’t you see?
It’s our burden, it’s our call.
It’s what feeds our wherewithal.
The children and those of their own.
This discord they’ll have outgrown.
A page of history, a troubled past,
A means for them to recast.
The slight, the envy, the guilt retired.
The dispossessed will be inspired.
Symphonic flows of morrow’s born.
Inequities praised and adorned.
That’s a unity, that’s a one.
Conciliation’s now begun.
© 2020 TheRememberings Ltd.