Unless We Touch Flowers

At times one clearly sees, hate will uproot
all meaning from mother earth and her flute
will play no more and skies will be torn
and a grievous grief will soon be born

unless the sun descends deep into our life
adding meaning to this endless strife
unless we touch living flowers each day
and we love on though love look away

and this let us resolve , “love won’t die out
or dampen within us, though at times we cry out
for clarity beyond the clouds, for a touch
of meaning when an extra bit is too much”

and this let us resolve “we will overturn
defeat into a lesson of love. We will burn
ourselves in a passion seeking the rays
of a fading life of more nights than days”

so that, each thorny day, flowers are born anew
children speak radiance that is bold and true
winter unfolds spring, deep within our hearts
in harmony we play our passionate parts

amidst all the noise and nonsense let us flatter
ourselves that the sun walks with us and we matter
that the song which awakened us will spread
some darkness unnamed won’t leave our souls dead

* written about three years before 9/11 and the subsequent madness

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