If I am because I think, then I live because I feel
Dawn’s skirling breeze, her crisp pure air,
Nature’s secrets unveiled, her beauty laid bare,
As I gaze upon the only beauty that’s real,
Watch me soar in my lofty lair,
Free from fear and worldly care,
See me fly over thunderhead,
Frightful storm and such things of dread,
Over chasm deep and mountains old, I soar,
And think of Man’s yoke of yore:
Politics, wars, religion
And such things legion,
If to think and feel are what make us whole,
Then Man is a hollow thing indeed,
His heart weeps while his mind kills the soul,
Still he wars and steals and makes brothers bleed.
* Published in print edition on 15 March 2014
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