Under the blazing sun a farm-helper is scattering fertilizer. Omen of the coming fortune of this infant year. He is the one who now announces: change is on its way! He is John the Baptist confronting the evil regime; an arsonist pouring gasoline over awakening embers. As sure as the upward, waving motions of his sturdy, hardened arms, with open palms letting loose a shower of soil-food, I can see the certainty of seeds of unrest sprouting, emerging, tentatively puncturing the seemingly unmovable stillness of the mid-afternoon sky with its bold and candid claim to its own place in the wide blue expanse. This while roots are thrusting more and more into the depths, and while at it, expanding, hardening, branching out, clinging firmly, refusing to let go.
Change is on its way! Old crusts are flaking. Stubborn hats are scampering, ancient gnats exploding. Eyes are getting wider, visions getting clearer. No more shall the filthy mouth of the many-horned monster ever deceive anyone into believing that it is well after the succor of the dispossessed when all it actually does is maim and mangle them. Heinous deeds shall be exposed in public places, there to be pilloried and burnt at stake. Not one of the perpetrators of the many ails of this sorry land shall be left unscathed. Fearsome wails and cries for blood shall volley through mountains and far distances. Defeat shall be stamped on the obscene foreheads of the impostors. Cages shall be unlocked, enabling a great multitude of freedom doves and vigilant hawks to populate the air and reclaim the land.
Interesting times indeed!
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