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Exuberant heart

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This poem is not political. The hero is not meant to be Biden, or Trump, or Gavin Newsome, or anyone else in politics. I say this, because a reader thought it was.

They hailed him as a hero, it turned out he was a fool,
I followed the herd, but forgot this basic rule:
Check the car works, before you drive it down the hill
The speedbump of reality undoes the initial thrill.

I was disenchanted, embarrassed, disappointed
Looking back, I asked, how was this man anointed?
When illusions and reality did part,
The waves crashed down on my melancholy heart.

Nobody's perfect, this I understand
Too few are honest with themselves in this wacky land
When the quake hit, walls gave way, assumptions did deceive
When the dust cleared, the rocks fell, who could still believe?

I had seen too much, struck by the poison dart,
I staggered from the crowd, my hand pressing on my heart.
The heavens darkened and in the blasting rain,
I began to run as I strove to cleanse the moral stain.

I left that dismal scene, rode into a desert town
Saw the Cepheus constellation, a king with his starry crown
Found an ephemeral stream, between cactus in the night
Started recovering, started feeling alright.

I need to have both ways, the skeptic road to truth
But also, to renew the exuberance of youth 
Just for a while to suppress the memory, to restart,
Maybe one day I'll reclaim that enthusiastic heart.

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