We’re frightened people,
People without core or guts;
We move and act by group control;
We fear everything
With funny consequences.
Our brand of religion is a chain of scapegoats,
Through it we fear to declare,
Or discuss the movements of our humanity;
Inside us our passions work,
Our emotions have ecstasies,
And our sentiments see truth.
All visions for our common survival.
But few of us will lift voice or finger
To acknowledge the best flower,
That fruit of our living flames of life,
Hiding in the twilight inches from escapism:
We
never grow up to required maturity,
For
our eyes of depth and width,
Though
active and sharp, never see,
Or face the light: the epiphany of life and –
Meaning embodied:
We
so hide from ourselves,
Remaining
unmapped oases to ourselves
And when we die,
The utility of our bodyself
Faces the lie, the fear of our unexplored self
Once so rich in gifts of joy and discovery:
Yet all left with all energy and riches untouched.
And this is the great
escape.
NO MORE SILENCE NO MORE VIOLENCE
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