by L.S. Heatherly
Soul -- in singing, talking, playing music;
In living, loving, and being human:
Something unbought by diploma's hubris;
Ungained by travel, arts, and science in hand;
Something growing outward, upward and true:
Where yearning stops; Heart throbs; and Earth-love springs;
Enfolding the child, relating love's rule,
Over all Human and Earth brought things.
Soul is mother of family, village, and fairness;
Of bondings, givings, receivings: all this
Old treasure defies the greedy and selfish!
Soul is wonders, splendors, all lovings' sweet bliss!
Soul's a sweet cup, sipped here, in fleeting time;
So unworthy, we, of soul's long presence.
Human heart's vision is Culture's essence.
Soul's decision is pure, ancient, and sublime.
With each arising from our depths,
We are, briefly, born again-blessed.
With each pollution of child's purity;
We pollute, strike short, our futurity.
Copyright 2013 L.S. Heatherly
