America. The only truth in life is that we have a right to live it. In reality death is its only destination, yet we always think of it like it's all about the moment we're living in. The here, the now, the second. They're the reason we involve ourselves with recreation, procreation, and domination. We're on a train that plows straight to the end; we don't choose how, when, or where it begins. We only decide what occurs before it hits that last bend. The tracks may be smooth or they might be incomplete, but either way the train and our fate must meet, greet, and detach. So that's that. Know that this life is not your purpose, it's not your end. This is just the car ride to where the vacation begins. So don't lie to me please, it's about more than starving children, hurting women, and dying trees. It's about the cause of these and where they will lead.
America. When songs are sung of your beauty, it is inevitable that someone will mention liberty. But are we truly free? Do we need liberty for the continuity of our pursuit of happiness? Will freedom really save a man in his hour of duress? When he's so confused that his relief is stress and his answer a test? The probability, the odds of a person living truly free...well, to be honest, they're one in three. In the world there are 6,887,842,952 different people. A third of that is 2,295,947,651 persons, and that number of free individuals is only real if every one of them claim as much without their parents' or friends' coercion. With the rampancy of untruth I'd say the actual number is closer to one in three of one in three, which is more like 765,315,884, but to what percentage of that number can the land of liberty hope to give birth?
America. The true beauty you claim abides in our ability to ask. Questions like: "So what's the catch? We're born, live, die, and that's that?" Those issues create a dimension that transcends the simple pursuit of happiness. For happiness is something that cannot last, happiness can be found without the freedom to choose. Happiness is found in the moment, an instant, the fun things we do. What we struggle to acknowledge is that happiness isn't always found in the truth. We lose a friend, hurt a leg, make a bad grade . . . all of these things cause our happiness to whither and fade. But joy, something truth brings, is never determined by the mood of the day. Joy is found in reveling in what we know to be true... or false? I'm at loss: I want you to be happy, but knowing the truth can lead to feeling worse than crappy. But perhaps it's not about how we feel? Perhaps its all about joy, death, freedom...the only things that are real?
America. You give your people possibilities despite the improbability that they'll take action. But what if your very existence spoke to the truth of what's really happened? What if your legacy was veracity and your tombstone a testament to morality? But more than reality, a message of the hope you have for our individuality, spirituality, and integrity? An account of not just who we are, but of who we can be; a tale of more than rich fools, a story of more than nice clothes, beautiful houses, and precious jewels.
Let ours be a saga of love, a history of good. Yet most of all, let our narrative be a witness to the God-chaser's truth. Let us be a witness to the fact that we owe nothing to you, but everything to the God we as a people, not a nation, can freely choose.