I heard the Wip-poor-will cry…#183

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Last night I heard the Whippoorwills parting cry, from the wet field, the heavy leafed trees, and the torrent rain and hurling winds.  Here in our homeland, America, we are too quick to despair, emotions break and swell, in these frantic times of turmoil and unrest like the waves beating upon the shore.

The bitter days of spring are gone; it did not take with it the plague and chaos that hangs over America.  It is time to take heed, the evil one is trying to conquer, he is not the shepherd of his flock, and he is a sheep in “Wolfs” clothing.  No, he does not deny his evil ways, he believes to be crowned and he is not, he cannot fall from grace as he is already tumbling into a fiery pit.

He does not speak of the dead, he has no heart, no empathy of the crisis that the people of this proud and stand-alone nation is in, they are dying, they are in a war with each other he does not care about the dying and he condones this war.  Many continue to work with hope in their hearts, is it all in vain?  He continues to quest for power, he lays thorns in the path of those with heart and hope.           

His throngs of followers are like water gnats gathering to show him praise; his ever-nearing circle weaves a wall of protection crushing hope for the future.  They do not understand truth, they too are unreachable his charm grows within their closed minds.  The dark fog of hatred leans over the land hiding the stars of dreams and happiness, hiding the moons glow of hope.

Nonetheless, our wet fields will dry, the trees will stay strong, rains will wash away the hate and anger, and it will propel the dark fog into the past.  Another page for history, there will be happier times, the chants of old will fade from our minds and we will all once again have the blindness removed from our eyes.  Our hearts will sing songs of love, caring and oneness, we will sing the praises of our hero’s, we will bury our dead with honors, and we will survive.



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