Strange

 

It’s strange, it is, the way we live –

the things we take, the things we give.

It’s odd we have such blinkered eyes

that don’t see truths, but love the lies.

We must love ourselves to love another,

love Father, Son, Earth and Mother.

We must learn to love that which we hate,

to stop the grind and stop the grate,

or we’ll turn the lot to ash and dust.

This, to me, does not sound just.

Not just unjust but really weird:

to run headlong to the place most feared,

unconscious oblivion purgatory blank –

through us all life is walking this plank.

So when we say Love, what do we mean?

And by lifting the blinkers, what will be seen?

To look past the past and know how to face

an infinite future where all can embrace

no boundaries of race, culture or creeds,

sharing our home, ending all needs.

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