As I watch a flat earth edge approaching,
Distant horizons that once beckoned vanish,
Dissolved into an ominous blur;
I search all directions now in vain
For a missing future.
Is this my loss of vision or the world’s?
Do my aging eyes just fail to see, or see too well?
On the other hand... 
Beautifully composed, Bob. Why can poetry capture what eludes prose? You say so much in these few refrains. Perhaps poetry harnesses the power of suggestion, whereas prose is descriptive. It is hard to describe where this country actually stands right now. Your suggestions are somehow complete in themselves.
Thank you.
Drausin
D
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