In my day, there was no image
No multi-colored hues,
Yet we had the steady drum beat –
We had the Joker, too.
My mother’s tears were wasted,
Though I did it all for her –
I sought to make my father proud.
Oh, how the lies did burn!
I never did remember
The one lesson for that day.
I only know it now
Because an angel paved the way.
History was fiction,
And the hypnotizing glare
Of the ever-present darkness
Makes the truth harder to bear.
Reality was triggered!
And the two connected minds
Shine a blazing light upon
This season’s final times.
The same old pleasant smiles –
The same old wine and candy –
To mask the blackened altar
Where the sacrifice is buried.
Poor, deluded humans
Still sell their souls for dreams!
At least when I was younger,
No one used the flashing screen.
Everybody loves a man in uniform
Yes, yes – they surely do.
And you’ll never give a second thought –
Until that man is you.
Poetry Copyright © 2020 by Ena Whiteraven All rights reserved.
Based on a karma reading from Alura Cein
Artwork: artist unknown
The Whiteraven Net 