Something seems phony, maybe off kilter.
Something is messing, with my old filter.
Displays through which, I viewed a world.
Why does it seem, like they have unfurled?
What’s right is wrong, what’s good is bad,
Feeling ashamed, for what made me glad.
Foundation is shaken . . . if it existed.
“Must make some sense,” my heart insisted.
A truth, a belief, an idea, a fiction.
Talk of some heroes nearing crucifixion.
Spirals of time, spin as they go fore,
Returns to the same, with something more.
As the world slides, into an ocean.
To where shall I, place my devotion?
A center within, depth within my,
Still leading me toward, an unmoving why.
Why I exist, why I do care,
Why this is hope, and not despair.
A test of a people, test of a time,
Are these things virtues, or are they a crime?
The truths revealed, as we are shaken.
Despots must rise, before liberation.
© 2021 TheRememberings Ltd