There are a few that matter.
Some from yesterday, others from tomorrow.
They will not reject reason.
For their effort
There is Cassandra's fate.
Far more comfort is to be found in convention.
Belief in a history with a sanguine remedy
Trumps the message of an oncoming fall,
And if choice was possible, I should stand with the many.
Tomorrow we will know today’s outcome,
And why suppose a dark sunrise?
There is little gain in being right.
Who will acknowledge your truth
When “tall” can be labeled “small”,
And the alignment of the stars
Can be seen as the cause?
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