Last Waltz to the Music of Time


peace girl The air is filled with discordant music as we find ourselves dancing a landler on the very edge of a precipice. Far below in the depths of the abyss we hear the rumble of drums and the clicking of bones from the valley of skulls.

Our partner dances a rough country dance - violently jerking us back and forth. At times we teeter over the brink. It is more wrestling match than dance. We struggle, fighting to stay on balance.

The fiddler calls the changes. Our partner leers. His eyes brim with visions of sweet Armageddon and promises of paradise, suppliant virgins and endless pleasure.

(But what if the "paradise" is now, and this green garden planet is the one we hold stewardship over?)

The choir sings as the dance floor spins, but we are drowned out by the soldiers marching and the madness of anger and discord.

The bandleader shouts of freedom. But if freedom is corporation and feudalistic family control of everything, egregiously inequitable wealth distribution, usury, gambling, and pornography - how can we possibly say we play the right tune?

The Crusades were a failure. Violence begets violence. This eye for an eye business leads one to believe the superstitious bastards memorized the Old Testament and skimmed the New. Must have missed that part about turning the other cheek, eh?

I know it is fearful to speak up. It is so very tempting to run and hide. Become a modern day Thoreau. Find yourself a private Idaho or a secluded Switzerland. It's only other people's children that are dying now. Perhaps the giants are only windmills after all?

They thought that once in Germany as the artists, homosexuals and Jews began to disappear.

Don't let yourselves be silenced. Sing. Sing now. Now is the time. Don't delay. Sing while you still can. Raise your voices, play your strings and horns and drown out the martial drums with a crescendo of hope for peace. Raise your voice until your lungs burst. Every voice matters.

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