So many people today are hopeless and disillusioned. Unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel, they have thrown in the towel. Sleepwalking through life, they have become causalities of the illness that is rampant in American society—reality fixation.
Once upon a time, Americans were the premiere dreamers. Dreamers who birthed a nation that became a beacon of hope to the world. Dreamers whose inventions revolutionized the world. Dreamers who refused to stay behind locked doors while the world crashed and burn. Dreamers who dreamt selflessly.
This is the America of my dreams. Liberated from the chains of self-involvement, self-centeredness… self-focus… self-glorification… self-importance… self-righteousness… self-reliance… self-seeking… self-serving… self-sufficiency. Once again a beacon of hope because she embodies the love of God— love of man— love of country.
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”