wouldnt it be nice in a world without a war
no more people dying no fighting any more
just  a world of love where we could live as one
living all in harmony all fighting would be gone

just a land of peace with a life thats free
in a world of love way that it should be
where we could live as one in each and every place
all across the universe in each and every place

It’s late April
spring is in full swing
bursting with life
the tree lifts its arms,
waves across the field,
its leaves full of light
flutter in perfect rhythm
with the wind.

The train is leaving the station
the years gathering toward my finish line.
Each season a child frantically
waving at his grandpa
as if to whimper
this might be the last time.

Awake! arise! the hour is late!
Angels are knocking at thy door!
They are in haste and cannot wait,
And once departed come no more.

Awake! arise! the athlete’s arm
Loses its strength by too much rest;
The fallow land, the untilled farm
Produces only weeds at best.

I came here at a late hour
sure that I left my spirit in the dust of the day
but here after dusk absconded with the light
my muse flutters in
joins the candle flame and the piano fugue
lifts me like a dragon fly
doing acrobats on a summer day.
I write to capture
the small miracle of this moment.