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So vast the distance between human kind.

So fractured the sense of right and wrong.

So vaulted our fears,

So tested our trying,


We drift along, a sailor’s dream,

Bounty on the other shore.

But the maps might be a fiction

As winds grow slack,

And storm clouds gather

On almost every horizon.

We tease at the margins of life,

But turmoil arises within.

We are dissatisfied, apprehensive,

The seams of heritage torn,

A future made of gauze.

Westward into the sun, cast in uncertainty,

Lethargy reigns. The hearth of home is so inviting.

The casual company of others we know warms us

And drives back the chill and persistent cough.

Master of planets, calm us. Creative Force, find us.

Great Physician, heal us. Still the impending wave.

Break the chain of enmity and rancor.

We fail to breathe, to find stillness in this hour.

We drive the agenda. Quicksand will overcome us.

Wait. Trust. Slow the rocket and ricochet of desire.

Cultivate peace of soul and spirit.

Revive the ancient mystery

Grasped on quiet nights

Under a siren sky, a flurry of stars.

With tomorrow’s sun, may we write,

with individual pen, a new chapter,

a new ending to the Book of Life

we keep so casually on the shelf.


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