What Is And What Is Not
What is sacred to you?
Is it the giggle of an infant?
Is it a mother's reassuring kiss?
Is it the spark of dawn's first light?
Is it the dying ember of Sol's last light?
Is it the sight of Luna protecting the night?
And if these be sacred then what about
the stars in abundance without a moon?
the stormy times that make night of day?
the quiet sleep of mother and child?
the cry of an infant at the passing of a shadow?
All yes, and then I ask, what about
a walk close to home in the woods with birds?
the flight of a butterfly across a wide river?
flowers that surprise unexpectedly around a bend?
Then why, I ask, do we hunt so fiercely
for profit of money from blood and death?
for numbers uncountable in dollars in banks?
And why, I cry,
do we rape Mother Earth for the game of gold?
So now I ask, is anything, to you, a blasphemy?