Each morning they make the commute
From nesting lands toward the rising sun
Shining in their eyes and warming
Thousands of them
With their squeaks and squawks
Each and all protesting the commute
Or sharing their thoughts on breakfast
As part of their morning ritual
Only to do it all over again in reverse
Toward a setting sun
With the glory of a day being done
Still protesting their commute
Or telling of the day’s wins
As they squeak and squawk their way home
Just to do it all again, tomorrow.
Yesterday, my spirit was lifted
Not only by a leader
Not by the words said
Not by the glorious hope of a poet
Not by humanity we should expect of politicians
But rather the strength of our institutions
The strength of We the People
Whose will was not denied
Whose fair and wise voice
Was heard in the halls of our Capitol
Over the stain of slander
Over the crimes of the misled
For we survived the test
For we are stronger and more resolved
And we will overcome
All challenges that stand in our way
We the American People
In our New Day
Oh angel spreading wings over this Christmas
treelisten to supplications of our love and hope for everyone for this to be the beginning of another time when we can truly say that we have become what the child born to all of us would have us be, in joy and happiness a kinder more forgiving world
so that peace will reign and forever remain like this evergreen
and this
child within us!
In the poem there is a metaphysical aspect regarding the beginning of everything. Quantum physics says that matter can spontaneously appear out of a vacuum, as if nothingness is something. While the duality of the poem seeks to portray a message that is relatable to the desperation of feeling you have nothing but potential… and yet the emptiness of everything as in knowing nothing. There is a thought of preconception, when we are nothing but potential, but at the end of our life we have everything we will ever have but it will not be enough, because we know nothing or more precisely we understand the emptiness of everything. In the end all that will matter to us is the people that we’ve loved and who loved us.
Nothing
Nothing screams into the night
Of desire and possibilities
For nothing is potential
While everything cries at night
About missed possibilities
For everything knows nothing