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Whatever the customs are,
Represent the rule of what most do,
And will continue to do.
The sheep bleat on,
They change not lightly,
Even though many customs are,
Selfish, excessive, amusing, odd or dangerous.
And there it is!

So what is to be done?
Violence and mass murder have been tried,
But it is not right to commit a crime,
To end the crime of custom,
Or violate basic freedoms to do so.

Oddly enough, fashion seems the better way,
Of changing customs,
Since people seem unthinking but herd minded,
As they are egotistical,
Willing to do anything to be ‘in.
But who controls fashion?
Custom looks good beside the fashions the media sets.
The media is sensation mad, completely emotional,
Surfing the surface of things, literal and not aware,
Visual, shallow, unthinking and picture taking,
But unfocused on priorities, consistently corrupting.
What the media fashions and media heroes make are worse,
Than what the idiocies of custom demand,
So do not assume in what you see changed through man,
Any real deliverance is at hand.

My solace is as far and long as things may last,
Beneath the superficial waves pushing along everyday affairs,
Moving in deep imperfect tides below,
There moves God in the undertow.
His tides of irony passing beneath,
The surface chatterings of many silly folk,
Chatting each other up incessantly on foolish items.
What shall then be? Have faith! Few really know.
But what does it matter?
When God works hidden in the underflow.


Dr. James MacLeod may be contacted through the Neill Macaulay Foundation.