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  • Writer's pictureRoberta Jones

One Day

One day you’ll wake up

and everything will have changed.

This is both my fear and my deepest prayer.

And it’s true, everything does change,

nothing stays the same.

Every morning the world offers itself anew,

spinning out of our dreams,

following the codes of our imagination

like a dutiful seed, or a baby

holding the genetic promise,

the dreams of the ancestors

mixing with the changing weather of life.

So many variables at play;

so many cooks stirring the broth.

Some are dreaming Armageddon,

while some dream a Golden Age.

For eons we’ve been divided—

fighting, separating, sorting into sides,

convinced we only had to tend

to our tribes, our families, our countries,

ourselves, our own enlightenment.

We were organs in a body

at war with itself,

and look how we’ve ravaged the body.

Playing at the edge of knowing,

I imagine us between lives

looking back and looking forward,

taking stock of what we’ve done,

evolving baby step by baby step,

coming to understand

the meaning of oneness,

the true nature of beauty,

and what it might mean

to care enough to come together,

love enough to stand together

on the unknown brink of change.

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