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Photo by Yann Arthus-Bertrand from New York from the Air |
How long is
the trail that lead you to this? No place to call home. No solid ground
beneath your feet. The innards tremble noiselessly from the shock of the world
you knew, now vanished. Adrift. The city points the way. Familiar habits
reorient. You have the books to make all things possible. Now more than
ever knowledge is important.
In the
nation, controlling mechanisms of government slip round the country’s neck poised
for an unpleasant end. You and your country are at one. Placeless, harborless,
somewhat mute at the unreal occurrences over time. Unforeseen, unwanted, unexpected.
A gray mist
floods the Hudson. You marvel at the luck of having a good friend to allow you
respite. A helpful audience sending encouragement and money. As you teeter on
the edge of a place you do not want to go, these sparks of kindness and hope push
you forward. Nipping doldrums of freedom lost eat away at your heels. Shall you
let circumstance gnaw at the effervescent day? You tell yourself the only
answer is to dispel the sickening miasma of eternal enclosure. Disembark the
ship of fools for matching like to like can only taint the soul, mar the patina
of age. The American experiment, though faulty, developed from a taste for
freedom. Righteous ideas of equanimity arose from a fetid past of gods and
kings. The microcosm equates the macro.
During this
time of times, when all seems grim, we must not forget who we are. What so many
strived for. My people, oh my people, on the graves of the diminished immigrant
and the bold reformer our country, ourselves is built. A place where anything
is possible, even the improbable. Our Puritan forbearers, promising cleanliness
and prosperity, remains evident in the infrastructure. We have comforts most of
the third world does not know. Our diversity, constant and incurable, gave us
abundant cuisine, culture and crossover. Light still shines in the land of all
delights. Do not let fear, busted desire and the need to blame obstruct what ineffective,
dangerous men do. They eat at our liberty in order to devour it whole.
We see the
hogs at the trough. We allowed a monster to rise in the land, no sense in
splitting hairs. Did the dead multitudes fight for our democracy only to have
it snatched by the dogs of avarice, conceit and blindness? We must be stronger
to maintain what took so long to arrive at. Our policies and laws are being dismantled
link by link by the forgers of gold chains of bondage.
When all
seems lost, we can begin by re-evaluating the meaning and history of our freedom.
When the rudder is lost, the ship will head for the rocks. Move out from the
comfort zone onto the thin ice of change that requires courage. What choice do we
have when the forests of time, a people under siege, is under the gun of gilded
foolishness? Stand up now or lose everything.
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