2020

by Tom Bajoras

Hindsight is always 20-20,
but looking back,
it’s hard to know
exactly when we thought that truth
is something we could outgrow.

There was a time, not long ago,
the world was made of wrong and right.
And through that world
we moved like pieces on a chessboard,
navigating black and white.

But now, in the fading light,
the squares dissolve to shades of gray.
The colors are ambiguous,
shifting with the time of day.

In our increasing blindness, crawling to the edge,
believing the rumors that the king is dead,
we leap off the board, into the void.
It’s not that we don’t know the rules;
it’s that the rules have been destroyed.