Tides of change are like the tides of the ocean Tides of the ocean I watched on an island off the coast of Charleston SC Cemented in my childhood memories as a scene of holy simplicity
And like the ocean, these tides can bring forth Great waves of progress Hunter Thompson speaks of the great San Francisco wave of the 60s, and how it surged, raged, but could not make the journey farther than they peyote nightmares of Vegas
And still in dreams at night I hear Woody Guthrie singing how there's "a better world a-coming" If you listen closely In the alleys around trashcan fires Or in the last of the occupied boxcars You can hear the same thing It's coming It's coming
Yet tides come in and then recede back And in the roar of the ocean I could hear it telling me to be calm The better world is coming But there is still much more time to wait I don't like to be a pessimist about such things But all one generation can do is reap and learn the last generations harvest, And then go and plant their own
In these reflections I realize why I can't write exactly how I feel about politics or progress I am not a warrior I am not a brick thrower or speech giver, though both have necessity in their own respect Like Hunter and Woody I am a teller of stories and presenter of truth and life I can spend endless nights and days writing of experiences But the future is beyond my grasp
Yet when the times come When blood is spilt and windows shatter I will be there I will experience every moment And I won't let the effort be forgotten or in vain For the tides come in Then go back again
I promised myself I would write about something bigger than myself. But I'm still there.