Face empty

They stared into oblivion

Their futures mapped

Into dust and derision

Having inherited the golden scepter

And spent it into dust.

The interest on the debt

A noose unlike any other.

It impales your children

It ties them to the past

The spendthrift politicians

Of every level up to the top.

No statesman of honor emerges –

Just grifters on a roll

Wagering on the polls

Decadent in their personal

Absence of control

While the ego lurks, lamenting

The mind sees it all –

We are independent souls –

Not to be affected by turmoil –

As it is part of this existence

Part of our reality –

Each day – new decisions –

And that may be part of the joy that day

As if choosing a path

Was the essential function

And that all the side roads

Were but illusions of truth

Revealed only as you go further –

Probably to the last moment –

Which we will surely fund

Is not the last moment at all 221229.1