Lisle Ryder Poet Quatrain

Far Flung

From creation's dawn matter has been flung
to outer limits, beyond conception.
We live in a fragment somewhere among
imagined limits of our perception.

Here counterfeit creators would exploit
for human ends finite gifts of nature 
and so leave diverse habitats destroyed,
condemning many a thriving creature.

Here dark conflicts of self interest scatter
refugees – their identity displaced,
lost, flung out as waste, rejected matter.
Those poison powers and weapon words disgraced

Justice fair holds the light for all to see
the other as if 'twere me, to create
from fragment people a fresh galaxy
of love and hope at sunset, to relate

to God at dusk. Drawn as one at day's close
to value all of life for its own sake,
we rest at peace gathered from the shadows,
ready for the morrow to be awake.

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