Change is Still Coming

It's been a long time coming--so long in fact the expectancy has waned. The tent dwellers no longer stand in their doors gazing at the stars and the watchers in the fields have given up. The walls around the city stand waiting to be torn down as people stumble over the rubble in the streets. Strange how no one desires anymore to build up the waste places but rather stand around shouting about the rats roaming the gutters. One voice cries continually warning and begging for change. But mobs gather around chanting the name of their chosen one of the hour as he hides himself among the crowd waiting for the frenzy to peek in order to make an entrance. They lift up rocks from the rubble and begin to stone the voice--but he still stands. Unrelenting in their attack but their minds no longer persuade them to pick up the pieces scattered and begin to rebuild. They seem to have forgotten how they crafted the city and paved the roads. They seem to have forgotten how to pray.