Where do we go from here?

What happened? And when did it start changing?
And when will it stop? Every day was a new life,
a new opportunity, just like every other, to get it
right, to learn something fresh and new and true.

Everything seemed the same, and for so long,
and then everything changed all at once, and
no one knew why, or when, or what, or how
to go back to the place where it all began.

Suddenly our song had changed, but the
new songbooks got lost in the mail—or at
least that’s what I’m told—and our old song
forgotten, we hum along looking for words.

The poets said to fill the unforgiving minute,
you know, and I guess that’s why. But what if
we don’t? What if that little piece of wisdom
comes a year, a decade, a lifetime too late?

Too late for us, yes, but do we ask God to send
one back—a Lazarus to warn our children? Yes,
they have the prophets too, but would they listen
to one come back from a late lived life—one like us?

I guess not—because He answers our prayers and
sends back, newly risen to every generation, ones
like ourselves, fresh with the hard-earned wisdom
of poets and life, and it never does one bit of good.

The story doesn’t end here, I know, or at least that’s
what I think. But where it does, I just can’t say. You
might say we all learn a little more every time, see
a bit more clearly. But, where do we go from here?

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