I woke from what the world is wanting:
a dream in which illusion, haunting,
makes promises it is not keeping
and hides its face when I am weeping.
With my eyes closed, my thinking slower,
I’m not immune to that great power
that would enslave me to its choices –
a sleeping puppet, meek and voiceless.
We must arise from that dreaming state;
Wake up now! The hour is growing late!
Before the twilight’s shadows creep in
to keep us docile, weak, and sleeping.
I wake and see the world is dying,
so I must act through living, trying
to change the small things I can, and must,
before this time is gone, and I am dust.
08 MAY 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
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