In This World

In this world
round, where is
west from east,
do north or
south ever part or
much less rest?

In this world
broken, will
pundits ever
hush or will the
poor never realize
powers crumble,
if upon them, the
poor justly rush?

In this world
so sad, where
does contentment
hide; did it rather
sink to an ocean
depth so dark and
so cold to reside?

What is this world?
Is it not poor amongst
its riches? Do diamonds
or gold have any value
without greed? What is
this world without
the poor? Would it not
be poorer still?

What is this world?
It is humanity’s
experience. It bleeds
and it heals. It weeps
and it rejoices. It
makes war and lives
in peace, whether real
or feigned. It is an
antithetical journey
from birth to death
and it searches for life.


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