What will we do? How will we carry on
when all around us hate and anger rage
and nothing seems to matter ’til it’s gone?
Who will we be here on the empty stage?
Where will we find the strength and will to fight
as enemies just multiply and grow?
Do our eyes dim, or is there just less light
by which to gather up I told you so’s?
Against such hopelessness what good are fists
except in vain pretense to preen and pose,
and then when danger actually exists
to hide away from any errant blows?
Let our illusions fall away and die,
lest we succumb and they alone survive.
03 APR 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
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