Dependance

I wrote this poem on July 4 of this year.  My hope is that it causes some to consider things they have not considered as carefully as they perhaps should.  Enjoy. 

Tis a day of celebration,

the evening sky soon filled with flame.

Tis a day of jubilation,

"Glory in freedom!" we exclaim.

Awash with patriotic zeal,

our eyes filled with red, white, and blue.

Tonight's celebratory meal

extols a nation's heart so true.

"Yet true to what?" we must need ask,

and what fills us with such delight?

Why does this country stand and bask

so confident it's good and right?

Is it that we're independent,

no other country holds our reins?

Do we feel ourselves transcendent

in spite of wrinkle, spot, and stain?

Is it pride in our troops abroad,

all valiant, brave, and honor bound;

grimly set to face any rod,

and spill their blood upon the ground?

Perhaps it's the thought of a dream

to which each citizen may strive;

that although great the odds may seem,

to accomplishment they arrive.

Or could it be entitlement,

which ever man feels is his right?

We claim our own truth heaven sent

defined as pleasing to our sight.

Of course, the answer's all of these,

this our country relishes each.

Grasping strong to them all with glee,

"Each one is ours by right!" we preach.

Dare we forget the One above, 

the mighty Maker set on high?

Will He be cast off with a shove,

fearing our strength with trembling sigh?

Nations have risen strong before,

self-reliant and oh so proud!

Each was shattered down to its core,

their anguished cries so shrill and loud.

History's canvas is aglow

with the bright colors of their pride.

Recount their downfall blow by blow,

see the dark colors as they died.

Our Maker remains unimpressed

with our might and inflated sense.

Wisdom demands we now profess

the extent of our dependance.