The Sun smiles on the rising dew
That turns to mist as Joe walks through.
Dreams do not come realized.
Mary waits with patient eyes
And trusts in what they’ve done.
When they knew the monsters won,
When terrors came to own their town,
When death appeared to take them down
They walked obeying mother’s call.
Let mountains from the heavens fall.
The final light is what they’ll find
Forgiving all they’ve left behind.
Conspiracy theories come in pairs. There’s the nutty theory I won’t believe in, because–well–it’s nutty, and there’s the opposite theory that, for some possibly nutty reason, I do. Motivated enough I could likely prove anything is true, which doesn’t imply that nothing is true.
Every time I take a stand I lock the front door, but I keep the back door open to offer protection to those good folk polarized in the same direction that I am. If there are monsters coming at me, this is a reasonable thing to do. Often I am pleasantly surprised by who comes through the back door seeking and offering protection. Sometimes it is the very people I thought would be storming the front door. Sometimes I look out the window on the front door after a major storm and see blue skies, pleasantly surprised at the absence of monsters.