A man who wasn't there

One year ago, I got my cameras, drove for hours in the snow and took some amazing footage of Barack Obama's inauguration. It was a cold day, but the excitement, the optimism, the general feeling that we were witnessing history, that He was our Man, kept us warm and energized. I remember the cold the metal of my cameras, burning to the touch. Great pictures!
That was a year ago. Last night, I heard the man who became president deliver the State of the Union speech.
He looked tired. His presence was not as towering as a year ago. He lacked the force of conviction. His words were empty. They were just words delivered from a teleprompter (which I've heard he even used at an elementary school). His speech dragged with a sense of hollowness.
He wasn't the Barack Obama who inspired the youth of a nation with his audacity of hope. His words rang empty. He seemed detached. Parroting. Reading. Without conviction. Hollow. Without power. Hollow. Empty lies. Very hollow.
He wasn't young, dynamic or energetic. He was produced, manipulated and hypocritical. The man who accepted the Peace Prize while escalating a war. The man who claimed to fight the banks while surrounding himself by bankers. The one who spoke against bickering in Washington, asking for a different tone and manner, while cuddling with Rahm Emanuel and other operators. He wasn't there. It brought to mind the poem Antigonish, by Hughes Mearns

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...