Monday, January 21, 2013

In Wait

They speak of me as if I were attuned
To the ways of this strange world around me.
Yet wisdom inside has not yet bloomed,
Has not yet become understanding. See
Where they hate one another in the square?
Where they bicker and fight in shallow streets.
Each of them uses the common stale air,
Still they quarrel, and the drum of war beats.
Inside it is no better than without,
Inside the man rages the sea and wind.
And nothing can put such a rage in rout
So long as a man has willed to have sinned.
But hope is not dead, nor is faith long gone.
I speak not in the dark, I wait for dawn.

               In Wait, (c) Luke Bennette, January 2013

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