With a whispered thought comes a dream
To be above the shame and guilt
Of losing pride in what would seem,
To most, the whole of what we built.
With a quiet thought comes the fear,
And shadows close the doors of reason.
I see racing frames of pictures clear,
Rendering unbearable deeds of treason.
With that clear thought, I stand corrected-
So much love has come and gone,
But I, alone, must stay connected
To what I know and where I belong.