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As the New Year rang in

Cheers for World War Three echoed across my neighborhood

Most were just joking 

But some have heard the whispers

    And some are really hoping

That a revolution happens  

    But almost everyone is afraid

Afraid of the future

   Afraid of events that haven’t happened yet and might never happen

They say that celebrities are buying bunkers

   And that the american dollar will fail

And they say a natural disaster will hit us

  And it’ll almost

Kill us

The screens will report news from the politicians 

As they do whatever they can

To win again

To win again

To win again

No one is expecting a happy year this year

They are expecting tragedy 

And fear

And struggle 

And tension

They can feel it building

Like the string of the bow

Being pulled back

And where the arrow of time will go

No one knows

All they know 

Is that the string is being pulled back

And that soon

God will let it go 

My friends tell me where they would go if shit hit the fan

“We have enough room for you! Come with us if you need to.”

“I’m going home. I’ll be safe there. I’ll have my family.”

“We have a ton of guns in a cabin south of here. We’ll be okay, we’ve got so much food.”

I stand back and listen to their tales of the pending apocalypse

But one of them asks me, 

“Where will you go, Clint?”

I stopped and thought about it for a second, and then a big smile took shape on my face.

“What?” they ask.

“Where will you go? What will you do?”

. . .

“I don’t know, but it sounds more fun than going back to work.”

“Hell yeah, bother! I feel that!” my friend yells, as he raises his cup up for a toast. 


CH 1/3/24

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