I have been searching for a beacon,
some sign that will guide us through this madness
into some sort of peace,
restless though that peace might be.
Maybe it doesn’t exist,
perhaps my heart only wishes that it did
and I am living in denial.
Perhaps instead the world will be devoured
by its corruptness and evil and fear.
So much beauty lost,
so much good
tossed to the wayside,
a colossal waste.
It weighs heavy on my soul,
tendrils of old fears begin to wrap themselves around me,
of losing the happy life that I have found-
the happy life
that I have built,
brick by brick.
I feel the weight of the sadness of the world,
a deep well of grief that seemingly has no end.
Part of me wants to look away,
to pretend that everything is fine
as all hell breaks loose around me
in some sort of chaos-filled ballet.
I can’t give up or give in, though;
there is too much riding on this,
too much to lose at a time when our spirits are already bankrupt
and we have nothing left to give.
But still I will raise my sword each day,
giving a rallying cry of possibility and hope.
I have to believe that good will subdue evil,
that injustices done can be reversed.
I have to believe in a world where goodwill
spreads, person to person to person,
love once begun never ending.
I just have to