the dreamer
Who finds inspiration
in things so simple
as the setting sun
in the early evening
It is the lonely heart
who finds healing
in the vast majesty
of the forest
It is the fool
who claims
to fall in love
at the drop of a hat
The dreamer, the poet,
the lonely heart, the fool;
Perhaps a tiny bit of each
resides within us all
The painter who cannot find
his own inner peace
The proud mother looking after
her pride
Brown or white
or olive
Does any of that
truly matter in the end?
And are we all
not of the same Earth?
Whether we be Pagan, Jew, Catholic or Buddist?
Does it really matter
which name
we give to the driving force
which sustains us
guides us all?
© August 2000 Liz Stein
