REACH YOUR FINGERS TO THAT WALL

Reach your fingers
to that wall. . .

it yields–
it seems
now no more wall at all. . .

No longer lingers
that same pall
that anybody feels
when an impenetrable barrier
prevents their being
their own dream carrier,

and when they then
can only see–
not break–
through to that other side,

where they
+++++can effect
+++++their wonder visions. .
+++++and much more, yet,

+++++and lay to plunder
+++++all divisions
+++++that laid people, nations and religions
+++++from each other and their Earth
+++++asunder,

+++++and allow to founder
+++++all their received
+++++and through-rote-believed,
+++++inward-outward blame derisions,
+++++which scrambled
+++++all their sense for good decisions. . .

Until
+++++not even death
+++++can stop them yet,
+++++while they’ve still got some
+++++benefit,
++++++++++to get
++++++++++and give
++++++++++the world,
+++++which only lives
+++++because of them,
+++++and can be uniquely
+++++by their lives
+++++unfurled.

So, go ahead!–
Reach for that wall!–
And find it yields,
and you’ll find
you can pick up
your unique ball,
in ever so many
deep and broadening
green and flowering wonder-fields. . .

And all this awaits there,
for your taking–
though it shall not be by theft,
nor leave any other one bereft,
for you will get it
in your giving–

you will never have to steal–
your dream will grow,
hand over fist,
to real,
and you’ll have played a master role,
in a better world in the making.

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This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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