As long as human stalks the earth it seems
we’re doomed to suffer pestilence and war.
The meaning of the madness … what? We roar,
we wheedle, whine and whimper. Angry screams
and bitter curses punctuate our dreams
in darkest nights and subsequently bore
into our waking consciousness. The core
in each of us is cloaked with human schemes.

But what if all we see and hear and taste
has been designed to serve a single goal —
to sensitize, to whet the appetite
for silence, beauty, truth?  A morning faced
with open heart and hope could be the sole
rehearsal for a spirit’s maiden flight.



2001 Mary Boren
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