I look at man, at green grass, old trees, red clay and the turn of frost tiptoeing toward me, and if I say I know, if I believe I know what comes next near this flame, I’ve purchased a vast untruth, the crippled body of man’s wreckage, lies, murder, rape, cruelty, as if we’re undulating with the engine of chance on divine tracks of quietude and not those of ruin. What does all this have to do with violence? If I love, I sought love first, you, only after my love was found. Thinking of this might seem crazy in a mad world of self, a quaking of failure that’s living upon our existence, that’s worshiping upon our loving, set to run aground where joy waits upon our inheritance, love upon truth. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? In my days, in my time, I will lift my love and my affection will feed upon the seeds of truth. © 2010 by mark prime No Bully Teaching Tolerance Kids Against Bullying Anti-bullying Network Stop Bullying Now
(The Weaver's Song)