Ode to Earth

Traversing forests, deserts, and over plains, baked naked out in the sun,

forlorn, a child sobbing in the rain, or teardrops from heaven falling.

Imagine just a moment, futility of time,
scrutinise what balance left for self, for humanity.
In an age, a place where passion died,

then we ought not to fail but,
inexplicably blind - we do.

Like teardrops falling from heaven, where we played, where we cried.

It is not unending this fate, It is of our own making, this mortality.

The strangest lie ever conceived - for ourselves by ourselves.

Look for truth, push for truth, personal integrity cannot perish - ever.

Break the barriers of our lies.

Love seemed to always be the answer, study, practice the middle path,
so engage, indulge in life as best you can.

You have to give it, to receive it anyway.

Fill your heart, don't destroy another's, follow self,
one's own instinct - is sufficient doctrine.

It's better by design.


Kurt Hubbard-Beale - 2003
kurttravellerhb@gmail.com