Journeying the Edge of the Wilderness (Apropos Succoth, Circa 2017)

 

No, not at last!  Now!

Today we must live free!

Now is the time

and the time is now

for us to liberate ourselves;

liberate ourselves

from our own chains; chains

that have clamped themselves

around our minds.

 

A wasted mind is just that.

Wasted; man’s creation.

God never created waste;

like He never created slaves!

 

Let us not be as crabs

in the bucket; but as those

that walk upon the banks

and across the sands of time

patiently building fortitude

to sustain the challenges

out of as well as in

the rivers and seas of this life.

 

Let us not be like “Humpty Dumpy”—

Trump walled—

finger ripped and pushed

into things fall apart pieces

that main-streamed democracy

has had intercourse—freely.

 

What a mockery

of the national judiciary –

Supreme and all?

Thus is the nature of

today’s political quantum leap.

 

The brave new world

has now come full circle.

Its hunger gang tentacles

insinuating satanic influence

upon the duped.

Once more and again

it’s too late realized

that you can’t

un-ring the bell

once it has been rung—

even if it was just in jest.

 

Ghosts of slavery’s pass

creeps back to regeneration;

free travel banned.

 

 

The waning sun sets on the clenching,

uncomfortable silent majority;

who must suddenly—abruptly return

to their own class-based struggle.

 

The true mask man now rides amuck

the façade horse of constitutional propriety—

Spitting in the faces of the masses:  “ I’m POTUS!

And ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.

I double dog dare you #######!”

 

Across the vast distance

of present political time and space,

we once again find ourselves struggling

in the periphery—Seeking

a higher consciousness of kind

to weed out the cancerous growth

that the bogeyman of deception

has planted in the minds of the weak.

 

As for the prune dry—piano board masses—

Liberty once again sags like a limped breast

drained of its milk of justice by an abandoning child:

 whining and smirking a devious smile as the night’s deceit

passes swiftly into deeper darkness of its self.

 

Yet behold this!  God is not mocked!

As the night moves further into its darkness—

 

Surely it moves also towards a new sun;

ushering in the dawning of a new day begun.

Truth—Stained and debased—Preens its self.

 

Indeed “…weeping may endure…[tearfully]…

for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”

Is it not also written in the Words of the Light?

          …For whatsoever a man sows…

               So shall be his reaping?