On the Eve of Magic

I am the change.

I am the change.
Crap.
I guess that means that I have to
get off my ass
and do something about it.

I can go and cry out,
scream, shout
about
this crazy, psychic, psychadelic
world we live in.
Where desire controls
with fear in the cockpit.
That must be how we got so lost
on this road we're on.

Wanting for the self
instead of thy neighbor.
There are so many layers to this
tapestry we've woven.
A tangled web of
who did what,
and,
oh, fuck, how do we get out of it?

Make it stop!
Dead in its tracks.
Wait,
turn around,
back up,
it's too late.

It's too late.

It's too late?
No, wait, that can't be.
How did we create our fate?
Our destiny of destruction,
hurt, pain,
every person for themselves.
What are we coming to?

What's next? The change.
And, what I want to know is
where the hell do we begin
to unravel this self-made
insanity
over which we have
mastery.
This mystery of
"How did we get here"
from such humble beginnings.

Right now, we're at
the brink.
Carefully teetering on this edge
of what might happen next.
And, in this crazy state,
suspended in a mid-air
stop-motion rate,
we can still,
just maybe,
go forward or back,
choose to care
or remain sedate.

On the eve of magic,
the veils are thin.
And, SHE whispers in our ear:

"I am the power to begin,
I am the spring."

"I gave you birth
from the womb of the earth."

"And in the face of this future,
what will you nurture?"

"Now, I take your hand,
and walk beside you."

"I am the change.
That can guide you."

You are the change,
We are the change,
On this Eve of Magic.