A feather burns up towards the moon; hope

so sad, a lunar eclipse decides my fate this December afternoon.

It hurts when I question, it hurts when I answer

the truth bears a burden, a festering cancer.

Modern science doesn’t have the solution,

because nuclear years are the age of a post modern confusion.

I bear my eyes upon a glistening, yet a fading sphere,

The supreme monarch of our time on the brink of despair,

and a future that is gripped by an unknown fear.

Retracing my steps, looking to my own borders

I’ll withdraw my self-interested wars and my tired soldiers

I have used up my mind, in need of a clear head

They have used up their strength, in need of a warm bed.

This correlation between government and man

isn’t a national broadcast airing on C-Span

yet a personal revelation,

to analyze the theoretical demise of a corrupted nation.

-Rawad Z. Wehbe