A turning spring tide touches all


The outgoing Age of crony hubris
Meets upon the battlefield of Contempt
For its inevitable death
And, vainglorious to the end,
With its last breath,
Fights ferocious with bombardments, bitter
Against an incoming Age of practical wisdom,
Armed by critical mass of hope and fury,
Bearing inner torches of enlightenment,
For outward burning…

And, no matter the size of your boat
Or the height and the strength of your walls
Denial and neutrality grow remote, now,
As a turning spring tide touches all.

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