The Orchard

the prologue of deceit
now holds us captive
within borders of greed.

How cruel to be punished
for such quenchless thirst!

Wandering...
often with no direction.

Trying...
to sow the seeds of change,

Yet...
all too often
they fall upon

d e t a c h e d

soil.

Longing...
for a gust of wind
to carry
just one
to fertile ground.

Hoping...
to bear witness
to the light
that shall nourish it.

Maybe...
the epitaph of the present
will give birth to a
new humanity

Then...
you and I will embrace
in the orchard of peace.