a poem is a sermon
Perhaps the world will end tomorrow night.
With so few sane in charge, that would make sense.
Besides, if the Cassandras have it right,
it’s way past time for sitting on the fence,
pretending that our waking up at last
can make a whit of difference to the tide.
We never plan for the worst,
no matter how grim it gets.
The whole world may die of thirst
watching the dying sun set
and still, we think there is time.
We can’t imagine an end
or pit so deep we can’t climb
our way out.
Fasten your seat belts, we’re off for a ride. All of us living, together we ride. Like it or not, you don’t get to decide.
Maybe we’ll travel and learn to be friends. Could be the mileage will make us all friends. The long journey on which the future depends.
Krishnamurti once said that it was no great achievement to appear sane and well-adjusted in an insane world. In these interesting times, that’s an idea that resonates with me on several levels. First of all, it calls into question what we individually, and as a society, consider socially acceptable and non-destructive behavior. Let’s abandon the […]
So: can a thing survive a fall, then lift itself enough to crawl from where it lands to some safe place, to heal and hide its bruised, scarred face until the foe that pushed it down has doubt it ever was around, then too late, as the counterstrike arrives, regrets its choice to leave a […]
The song I sing this morning is not new. In fact, its birth predates even my own; yet in between the phrases, now and then, it’s me, and not the tune, that you’ll hear groan. Why is this melody upon my lips instead of some fresh fragment from the charts, designed from sentimental, worn cliches […]
The things by which we measure our success: accumulations from long years of toil, the pride of equity in an address, and our precious illusions. How soon spoiled, in just a moment’s passing, are these goods, respectability’s crush torn away. All the great faiths instruct us that we should in times like these find hope […]