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The Blame For It All
Once when the world was filled with arches
and waters flowed in the deserts of Paradise
there was a vision of people and Nature
like a violinist and a violin.
But when the raisins in the cake of politics
lost touch with the grapes
that they came from
and the symphony of creatures living in the
sunlight
lost its luster,
when broken people sat on sidewalks
talking to themselves
to keep from disappearing,
and cities became a spectacle
of burlap sewn with silk,
we continued our daily motions
guided by the hum of systems and machinery,
the steady drone of industry and organization,
we continued to recite the alphabet
while counting the hours until dinner.
And when the game was over
and all the marbles had been counted
and all the playthings put away
who was able to say:
“I have played the game divinely”?
who among us could claim:
“I have made our dreams come true”?
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