blindly needing the idea of a dream
a cavern in my soul echoing in blackness
full of emptiness in thick places
where has my ghost been walking
during those long years of my past
leading me somewhere I was never meant to be
my inner child pounds at glass walls
searching for life as it flows past grasping fingers
silently screaming at the cage of tradition
I don’t usually reprint the various email stories that I see floating around, but this one deserves special mention.
We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgement; more experts, but less solutions; more medicine, but less wellness.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life; we’ve added years to life, not life to years.
We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We’ve conquered outer space, but not inner space; we’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul; we’ve split the atom, but not our prejudice.
We have higher incomes, but lower morals; we’ve become long on quantity, but short on quality. These are the times of tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships. These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare, more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.
These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes. It is when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stockroom; a time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to forward this message and make a difference? or just hit delete.
Written by a Columbine High School Student
And now for something completely different, here’s a poem from yours truly that’s isn’t painfull, dark, or despairing. Looking for an Angel was sparked by a verse from “My Lover’s Box” by Garbage, and grew into something else over the course of time. The sound of the chorus sank somewhere into my mind, and struck a slightly different chord.
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
I’m afraid I’ll never get to heaven
-My Lover’s Box, Garbage
An Angel who is familiar with shadows
With strength born from living through them
The empathy to understand them and
Knowledge that trust can bridge dark times
An Angel who is looking for a Man
Who has known some hard times of his own,
Striving to build a better life each day
Enjoying challenges and rewards as he finds them
An Angel who can fly amongst the clouds
Borne aloft on the strength of her will and
The faith of those who love and believe in her
Who wants to share her life with a dreamer
An Angel is who I’m looking for
With a devious twinkle in her eye
To chase the dreams and share the joys
Hidden in life’s secret gardens
