We don’t know what age this is,
where once it was gilded,
the greatest, the iron and industrial,
we live in an age now without name,
we are afraid to name it…to accept
the emptiness of partisanship
the narrow confines of categorization,
the moments and hours and days
and weeks of shame, of hateful speech
of hateful politics of hateful…air;
an age of distrust of the very things
we stand upon, the ground we walk over
as it is not what it seems, not solid
any more…this age is so far less
than the ages before, polished
by history but this one…so far gone
that it may not come back, can’t seem
to be revived yet we must….
we must rename, must relive, must
throw off the yolk of “us and them” and
them and them and them…we
want to, no, no, no, we must
unleash the pent up, the hidden,
the silent of us all, the majority
who are fearful, who are there always
but sad and beaten down by it all…we
must rename this age,
retake this age, reverse this course
because this course is down, is down,
is down and destined for failure,
for death, for destruction…destruction
of ourselves, maybe not dead
(human dead), but dead (mind and
soul dead)…we must change
while the majority cry, we fear
we weep because we may not know
the way, we may not know
the buttons, the order to push,
we may not know the idea
that there is a way back, that ultimately
this age is harmful and painful
and without a name but,
we know that when we land, when that
long sought after solid ground
rushes at us at a thousand miles
an hour…we know that we will die,
we will cease, we will be
the nothing that this age demands…we
know we must not let this age
be nameless.

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