If we could ever name our essence;
We’d be blinded by incandescence.
If we could ever see clear our souls;
We’d go all wobbly like newborn foals.
If we might ever hear past the words;
We may become skittish startled birds.
If we could examen hearts in hand;
Tear salt would render our flesh to sand.
If we saw clearer than mirrors show;
Would we then be proud…or be brought low?
If we feel what’s felt by another;
Could we then see…there is no “other”?
If we question & say our what ifs;
We’ll yet understand life’s hieroglyphs.
If we interrogate rights & wrongs;
We’ll feel the heart…of every song.
If only we’d look just past ourselves;
We’d see new worlds, under dust, on shelves.
L.B.Stowe 