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May 2015
A single voice is mortal, a loud enough chorus is immortal.
Striking the symbols and bouncing all the way down
to the sky.
The conductor wildly swings his arm for the audience who pay.
You and I sing for the joy of playing along with the birds,
We are changing nature, singing for the sake
of adding a note to the world.

We can get the thoughts in our head to turn the other way.
An army that charges screaming is scary, an army that charges
laughing would make me **** myself.
Charging at you genuinely happy to fight the
fight they know to be right to be earning ground for
those who can’t buy it.

All shall be welcome no background checks,
the undercover cop will be turned.
I’m not asking you to love every stranger,
Don’t try to make out with every stranger
that’s weird but keep an open mind.
They could be the next
Bush or an angel.

No turns in fate just the world tilted at a new angle.
Prehaps some debate about which way to be turned
after some talk among the universe.
Does this historian really think he can write who we
were? Do they really that some secrets
won’t be buried with the passing second?
They shall discover oxygen and claim it to be new
and new it shall be, the world refreshed at last.

The passing car shall pass with the horse and
the dove overhead cries a white and blue cry,
singing to the stars above
none shall rule out the other all given all. The waves shall
break in neat order, tirelessly! Our heartbeat without an audience
a wave without an audience are we really that diffferent?
Are you, I, a passing stranger and billions of unnamed people
that different?

The rock the couple sits on, the rock that gave
the kid his first ****** nose
that you and I shall sit on, rests contently
not knowing that it fell or if its still falling.
A work in progress part of a larger poem
Written by
JM McCann  NY
(NY)   
282
   Cecil Miller
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