Wednesday, July 8, 2015


(Poetry Scales 41)

In brief, lucid, innocent, moments
We see an outstretched hand of invitation
But, caught in a cult of self
Most stick their heads in the sands
     of man-made rules, power plays, and delusion
Say foolishness, they hear wisdom
They think purpose is a figment
In freedom they hear prison
And forgiveness sounds like judgement

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