Can you purify
What was in the past made false?
Where so many said,
The cloudy days will dampen your spirit,
The sounds of factories and motors
Will lay waste to your thoughts,
Can we still find that rhythm down there,
That crest of divinity
Made to buzz so wildly with rare abandon
That others,
Frail ones,
Don’t see?
.
And sure,
We revert to world-loathing
On a basis of money-pushing,
But we’re better than that,
We’re better than cynicism,
Stasis,
Complaint.
.
But beggars can’t be choosers…
Those of us braced psychotically
In a search for life
Cannot be indignant
When we find it,
Cannot fault the source,
Even if it was a source
Who first gave us death.