Tomorrow's Brighter Day
is what we wish for, isn't it?
It always offers just a bit more time
to set the scene before the curtain rises,
before the houselights dim,
the orchestra to take a break,
before some truth is caught in frolic,
covers its face, and vanishes in shame
.
That legendary day, alas, does not draw closer.
There it is, cemented in nostalgia,
reachable by sacrifice, and distant
by the falsity of pride
that always thunders at us
with deceptive voices, carefully enunciated
to an educated ear.
Only freeloaders must beware.
Only truth which must endure
will manage to survive,
and even that must struggle mightily
against the vanity that festers
in our coveted wounds.
Yes, my love, tomorrow!
Sign the cross. Ressurect the rosary.
All creatures of our God and King
will bow once more to every majesty
we have created--every tale
that draws the heartstrings tighter.
Or simply let it be.
Everyone can play; no act of modesty negates.
Reach. My own is with me still,
though I flash back six decades--
it was time to say goodbye,
that which remained, unverbalized.
His gaze and mine, an intercept
that would never be resolved.
~