As Icarus flies overhead, as wax melts and sunbeams burn,
so too do the brutal acts burn our own flesh and kin:
is this the world we, as single soul, must live within?
If even an individual limb becomes torn from our great body,
so too does each single limb on our own frame ache, as if each
sinew and tendon trembles from the wound of a global gash.
As above, so below. And as over there, so here too.
There is nothing separate, nothing new.
That which affects each other affects us all.
The way forward, to transcend, is a global call.
Each thought, step, sacrifice, gets counted: each atrocity
creates a scar upon our species face. This is not the place
nor time for such ancient, archaic understandings.
Life is in transition – our fate is now in position
for a most memorable move. It is everybody’s place.
15.58
7.7.05
The day
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