When I watch the world unfolding on the telly,
With aged power holding on so tight,
I wonder at the causes and the reasons,
I speculate on what is wrong and right.
I see the crowds and hear the rules and wonder
If status quo is so great, as they say,
Why are people marching for their freedom,
Taking time out of their busy day
To beg release from what they deem oppression,
A servitude to rule that can’t reflect
The hearts and minds of innocence now seeing
The world as ruled by purposeful neglect.
I worry and I fret that what I’m seeing,
Acting in, supporting with my soul,
Is part of cosmic chaos justly unfolding
Or realisation of some greater cosmic goal.
I think of anthills, where casual observer
Positions obstacles for circus fun,
To watch trapezists vault and clowns perform their stumblings,
And, hating circus, want to see its ending done.
I wonder at the honesty of all the actions,
I grieve at cynicism I have found.
While watching, hearing, praying, I’m still hopeful
That truth, like electricity, will find its ground.
Then I think of all the marchers singing, hopeful,
Of the ones they’re marching for, determinedly,
And I glory in the knowledge that, despite all,
People cry for freedom, liberty.