When Chaos Comes: A Civic Prayer

Photo by Vladimir Fedotov on Unsplash

In the beginning, there was only the unspoken.

And the unspoken became chaos, and the chaos became forgetting.

And from forgetting came the lie.

But one stood up and said,

“No. Two plus two equals four.”

And in that sentence, a world began again.

For coherence is not given—it is held.

Not discovered—it is constructed.

Between us, in words. In ritual. In witness.

In the simple act of naming what is real.

You will be told that nothing matters.

You will be told that power is all that speaks.

That truth is fashion, and justice is sentiment,

And meaning a game for children who never grew up.

Do not believe it.

For though the sky collapses and the center fails,

Though institutions rot and liars inherit the platforms,

Still this remains:

The witness.

The refusal.

The memory.

Let them burn the script.

You will remember the language.

Let them twist the world.

You will speak it plain again.

The tent may fall.

The lights may go dark.

But the witness does not leave.

You are not alone.

And it is not too late.

Speak.

And the world begins again.