When a child the air was clear.. fun in living.. taking..
giving.. innocence held near..
father drove carefully.. me between his knees.. down streets I would shift gears..
sun dappled through the trees..
somewhere deep inside me things I could not say.. dichotomy of what I see.. not seen in any play.. all around this wonder world time gave folks a chance.. I saw as a child.. those blinded by the ‘money dance’..
Long ago seems to me status meant so much.. national disasters are you penguin.. are you Dutch?..
draped in flags liars drag a weight heavy indeed.. while war finds excuses.. as delusion kills in greed..
no matter how you scatter.. or group in a place.. what language.. or religion you set out with your face..
love is all I have for any life on earth so born.. the only status means a thing is sunshine warm each morn..
years blossomed to decades long years I forget.. anything of status ‘cept what felt when first we met..
meditate.. or is it pray?.. in my living play.. I wish you purpose clear.. to take to your love on this day..
Thought.. ‘The young could not find example in war.. if war did not exist.. ‘Who Claims as their own.. their art.. the dastardly creation WAR?’.. Peace Tony