SUN YET TO RISE MORNING
I am sitting in the cool morning darkness,
The quiet is so ever pervasive and calming.
Yet all about the outer world men are moving,
Some in their peaceful endeavors others not.
Have I become immune to the hatred?
Can I not see all the suffering children?
My bubble keeps out the evil of the night,
But the sun soon rising will expose to me.
Shall I turn away and live in own ignorance,
How in such weakness may I serve them?
My mind is filled with these ideas of man,
Knowing the futility of his simple solutions.
Words spanning across time have been written,
Answers so simple yet so complex to solve it.
The falseness of the men, who attain the power,
And rule over our minds and souls with grace?
Benevolent power is the caring of one for another,
And we seek the guidance of these men of power.
How can we see within their souls and find truth,
For the tongues of the deceitful are persuasive.
My ear hears and my heart hears yet the mind,
Must be open and discerning to the words spoken.
As a child I absorbed the thoughts of all those,
Around me whom I called teachers not to question.
As I sought the answers I then began to formulate,
My own thoughts from the puzzle pieces given to me.
The pieces led to more questions and few answers,
Is there a truth to be found among these men.
I think not because they are men of flesh and blood,
And tainted by the very nature of men self centered.
The words I write are like the rain in the morning,
Flowing so freely from a stream to the vast ocean.
Am I living in only the moment and touching no one,
Yet I must seek to touch just one mind and one soul.
Since I was once called a teacher.
