Roaring Twenties

America had never seen a decade like it. Neither have I...

It's ferocious appetite for adventure is insatiable
Sneaking about moodily as it seems to stalk an eternally-elusive prey
My "roaring twenties" seem like an exercise in futility
How many rounds of trial-and-error does it take for the lion to become king of the pride?
How many practice roars do other members of the pride endure in the attempt to perfect the sound?

New beginnings of who knows what roll off the assembly line in Model T fashion--taking my world by storm in a cloud of idealism and innovation, for the moment...
As I joy ride my Model T, the flapper-rebellious side emerges through tests of self-expression,
tests of society's limits
I stroll about without a care in the world--
in the beginning certain that I'm the fliest thing this world has beheld
But then, there's always some sort of sobering event that crashes my "T"
and puts me back in the buggy...
I struggle with true forward motion and progress, but at least it's fun
Learning to be a lioness

I know also that I'm not alone in this era
What seems meaningless is actually covered by the grace shown in the sacrifice of the
Lamb of God, the one who can tame this spunky, oft-irrational feline.
The hope for this moment--and every other--is that
I can come in like me and go out like Him.