Advent: Longing

A poem

I started working on a series of Advent poems last year. I’ve picked up the project again this year and have been quietly working away. Here’s one that feels particularly relevant:

This is the season of longing
as we sit amidst the wreckage
and rubble of the ages,
dreaming of the
shining towers and turrets
of an everlasting city
whose ruler is good.

Little men speak loud,
boastful words
and smash the world
like toys in their tantrums,
and we are left reeling
in the wake of their passage.

Will some righteous one
take the scepter and the crown?