The Corporation has had its day.
There comes a great de-centralization through chaos. And in its wake will flourish The private enterprise, And laughter, Sweet, childlike merry-making, As the little ones chant and sing upon its grave. And we will do business with each other once again When the great Leviathan crashes to the earth And the children of the kingdom Feast upon its ashes.
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I live and keep on living.
I move and keep on moving. And it suits me fine. It suits me fine. I knew an old man who lived by the ocean. And he said that once, years ago, It made its way into his house. And so the old man and his neighbors Pushed it back. They pushed it back. With rock and sand and a crew of engineers, They pushed the ocean back. Can you imagine that?! And the man lived in a little shack. For that, they pushed the ocean back! Because they could not keep on moving with the tide. They could not keep on living with the seasons. And I realized as he told me the story, That we were very different. I would have moved on, I thought. I would have moved on without a thought. And trusted that an unseen hand had better plans. Yes, an unseen hand has better plans. If we can only see them For what they are. The sun sets upon the sacred valley.
And the clouds light up with color As the cool rolls in off fields of green. The smell of earth. The sound of bees. The mountains looking down In loving, purple, rocky grey. And I alone with the silence, No outlet, but to write Here on this page, No pallet, No colors, No music. Just the words, the gratitude, that rolls Through my brain and down my slippery fingers Onto the emptiness of the barren page. Sacred little cumulous clouds
And almost stormclouds Grace the holy valley. And I am lost in the fields. The tractors drive by. And the driver’s wave. But nobody cares That I live here. I do not move Except When absolutely necessary. And the longer I rest here in silence The more I am healed. The more I’m healed. I close my eyes and see waving fields
Of the most golden grain I’ve ever seen, As if the sunlight is caught up and inbetween The stalks of grain, and as if it glows itself. And through the field runs a telephone line, Post, post post. And I am lost in the bright yellow. I came upon a Blue Heron today.
It landed in an irrigation ditch And hid behind a clump of grass. I slowly moved up on it and it flew away, But not far, a hundred paces down the ditch. Incredible, a Blue Heron in the irrigation ditch, And he’s staring back at me as if to say, “Hello, old friend.” And I could swear That I remember him from long ago, Long before our names were written down, When the morning colors of creation shone Upon the hearts of all created things. “Hello, old friend,” I say. “So good to know you once again, So grateful for the visit, So beautiful the friendship long forgotten, And how precious the unexpected, chance, reunion.” |
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