Gentling
Behold the towering top of Soracte
Snow capped and quiescent
Gazing benevolently down
Upon lambs gambolling and flowers
Of the forest opening
No longer does it feel enslaved
To the boiling passions of its once liquid
Swirling innards
Which so often erupted with an invader's urge
To possess and to destroy
What it so desired.
Life is now calm
And beauty can be seen
For what it is.
Dispassionate appreciation
Takes the place
Of damnable domination.
If only the young could be schooled
In the hard won wisdom of the ancients
Then would we walk hand in hand
Freely and fearlessly
Copyright © Denis Bruce | Year Posted 2014
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