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Poem

In this, the death-prone winter of our discontent,
the world lay languishing from mitotic chaos
and malignant uncertainty---spreading a pandemic
cancer of destruction over the body of our moral humanity.

Infected rebirth cells of ancient crusade history
scatter world wide---blown like dry leaves
in chilling winds of cold war seasons.

Here, in the frozen season of time, Armageddon
stalks democracy in the chilled midnight hour;
while in the twilight of the eve of destruction,
world watchers waddle the time away: constructively
engaged in spotlight moments of warming scenes.

With a bloody but unbowed head, let not our world wallow wearily
in the mirage of winter’s defeat; nor allow her frigid blast
to shatter the bruised reed of hope or out the burning wick of love.

Let us stare adversity in the eye, rekindling the spirit of unity;
let us refashion the crumbled, rejected stones of our moral society;
we building a new and better world where we hold it to be self evident:
peace---perfect peace, is the dominant ethos of our recaptured humanity.

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