When Real Change Begins

You said a little bit about your heart
And its vocation. You had heard a call
And answered. "There's a sign, five metres tall,"
You told me, "telling us to make a start
At making things work, break despair apart."
You said you'd seen the writing on the wall,
But there was nothing visible at all,
No wall, no writing, no spray-painted art.

Your heart, like mine, is full of venal sins
And hope. Among authority, debate,
Regard, and truth, we're in a parlous state,
A world based solidly in garbage bins.
At some point, soon now, when real change begins,
Despair will be irrelevant. Just wait.