No More Heroes

Looking Up

Is it the beauty of the game,
the silky, fluid movements on
and off the ball that you practice
in the park, or the money they pull
and the partners they take?

Is it the songs they sing of broken
towns and faded communities,
the people that might be you,
or the possibility of untold wealth
unattainable to anyone who tries?

Is it the shape and sound of the words
that speak to you late at night,
the rhythms of the street, the dreams
they share, we share, or is the just
the words shared too many times?

Do we look up to individuality,
to being different, joining a tribe,
finding a unique voice to follow,
or is it bland amorphous social
norms to which we subscribe?

Who do we look up to now,
who fills our hearts and minds
with action? Who would show us
how to become a better person?
Would we even hear them?