*For the Time Being* A day will come when nothing will matter but the day itself. No one will care if what’s predicted in the Farmers’ Almanac comes true or not – or fret with crossword puzzles just to pass the time – or ask why total frankness is acceptable in surgery or love or art but otherwise considered shameful. A day will come when even the best will not be good enough. What’s seen as quality will crumble under scrutiny. Total frauds will speak as saints while torturers receive the eucharist in public and be blessed by bishops. When salt exceeds the price of silver, banks will close. Drivers will spend a month’s wages for a tank of gas. Armies will be staffed by foreigners. Doctors will be paid in promises. Gravesites will be taxed as real estate And levied on the next of kin. A day will come when no one will remember who we were or where we lived or how. Headlines will exaggerate the trivial to make the unimportant seem important. History will vary with historians until the past recedes and disappears like snow. False prophets will foretell the worst and be believed because the dreams of liars are immune to contradiction. The world will change from what it was to what it is although the earth will keep repeating its ballet in orbit to remind us every morning that today’s that day.
_Samuel Hazo ’49_
The Song of the Horse
_From_ The Song of the Horse _by Samuel Hazo, copyright 2009 by Samuel Hazo. Reprinted by permission of Autumn House Press._