The World Is Turning Softly Now

The world is turning softly now,
But soon it must erupt with fire:
The white conductor takes a bow,
And heaven’s singers cease their choir.

It’s hard to say what it will be—
The spark that lights the fetid flame,
The steel-chained beast once more set free;
This path has ever been the same.

The cannons aimed, the fuses lit,
Excuses made in which to hide;
The Lady Justice reads her script
And smiles her favor on each side.

What hope exists for blinded men,
And fallen trees, unseen, unheard?
A stranger tells a story then,
But no one understands a word.

“For every right there is a wrong,
But how can so much wrong be right?
How came the discord to this song?
When did the darkness snuff the light?”

The questions ringing through the air,
The Question through each mind will seep.
But blindness is a common snare
And always does its victims keep.