My Hero

My Spirit is having a human experience: hushed and silent I become a Witness in the parentheses enfolding D-Day through to the slow-motion collapse of big-box skyscrapers in a terrorist's plan. Softly, slowly I walk past endless tombs of televised murders or flower children's drug-induced suicides. Poverty, plenty, poetry it all stands upon the sacred earth's blueness as seen looking back from the moon to ... napalm. I stand in awe before technology and face the emptiness of the pc screen as boat people float passed. My Age, these sixty-five years gone by ... is it the Jesus Christ Superstar Age or the Age of Greed, the Age of Open Closets or the 12-Step-Whatever-Ails-You Age, is it the Age of Billionaires ... ? And after all the foul air I've breathed and through this horror bravely gone, I know My Hero is you and me on this journey. For we still smile, we still laugh, we still cry as we pass while the sand softly, slowly falls to the end of My Time.