The warm breezes of Indian Summer
bring comfort to a weary population –
the minions of unemployed,
the dispossessed, the homeless
among us. We have seen
unjust war and wasted wealth.
Evangelicals believe all this will end
when Jesus opens the heavens
banishing death and all the evil,
all of us rescued from misery
and wickedness.
I am awake so my dream
depicts a different dénouement
as hundreds and thousands
give voice to what I hope for…
justice you can see, illumined
like the wings of angels
spreading against the curve
of the night sky
what we long for
intelligence designed
from which
we find our home
in eternity
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I like the way this poem starts off, with measured, grave, discursive lines. It's solemn as the poem coming after, wants it to be.