The mountains have been moved.
There are cracks in the walls
Of personal and societal brick.
As the flower Terra grows,
Forming a perfect bud,
We see in its emergence
Living visions of a future
Mankind has always known.
The earth expectantly quakes
Whenever we Remember
Not to Forget. . .
To walk the narrow passage
Between the illusion
Of reliving memories long dead,
And burying our given gemstones
In the graveyards of neglect;
Purposefully carrying our Treasure
Into the Light of Today.
The widening cracks will crumble walls
And moving mountains never be stilled
Until the Dream eventually fades. . .