2015 10 10
We walk between the worlds that we invent,
weaving them together with dreaming eyes
that stitch fantasies from our hungry hopes.
Every Saturday evening I enjoy
a Wordsworthian stroll around the lake
by my home that mirrors all our lost dreams.
I stroll about the lake in evening cool,
gazing at sheen of reflected sunlight
while thousands of people around the world
suffer every day from disease and war.
I watch children play in the carefree park
while far across the indifferent sea
men in trucks shoot villages of men,
then enslave nameless daughters as their wives,
while they pray to their invisible god.
I ponder beauty in the peaceful park
while nations fight for whose god reigns supreme,
but I see only myself and the sun.