A prince, a hero
a healer, a rebel,
what they had in common
was need.
The prince wanted
a world to see,
the hero his people
to finally free,
the healer master of
psychology
the rebel a general
reluctantly.
What they left behind
is mere words.
Now it is up to
you and me.
Should we or shouldn't we
poison the air we breath,
kill to eat
or grow what we need?
Take by force
or just give in,
love by choice
or live in simplicity?
I write these lines
to remind myself
that I make the world
by my hand
one word at a time,
lest I forget
and sit by
without heed.
jam08
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Out of everything I've
by jamh on Wed Jan 21, 2009 09:27 AM PSTOut of everything I've written, I truly dislike this poem the most. Only the last four quatrains are worth your time.