IS OUR PROGRESS JUST WORDS?
I want to weep with world-weariness,
As I watch the wanton waste,
Of resources, essential and bounteous,
Being opened, but untouched, thrown away.
Why is our progress just words?
Tiny-mind, man-murdering tasks?
Where can we live like the birds? –
Fast-winged, warm-feathered, relaxed.
Yet they, while fulfilled, still they bend,
To a communal law of the land,
In order to safe-guard their natures,
And, securely, share with their neighbours.
- goinghome (5/11/’87)
Thursday, June 4, 2009
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About Me
- goinghome
- I am on a curiodyssey. Inherent is the desire for freedom and at the same time, a sense of its elusive ineffability, of constraints on obtaining or maintaining the state. Meditations on life, art, philosophy, humour and manifest phenomena can open doors, unlock chains or just lift the illusion of feeling alone.
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