Come, gather with me in these closing days
when poets praise and politicians raze
what makes a human beautiful and wise.
Come, gather with me what the children’s eyes
see clearly, once each lifetime, and remember,
increasingly nostalgically, till they die,
revering till blood’s river runs towards dry
and bones creak brittle, loosening hold on sinew.
Come with me, gather. Help me find some light.

4 thoughts on “Prologue

  1. Especially with the political climate of today, this poem is a beautiful invitation to search for brighter times.

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