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Ours is the Age

Ours is the age of awakening, ours is the rage of their making.
Ours is the knowledge of all to cease, listen upon a Spring time breeze,
A new world is forming, a new heaven out of a cold and usurous storm.
What reason is there to be found in drawing circles in the ground they ask?
How will it last the coming, the frothing, the bubbling of the storm?
How will it last the coming of Winter and her frosts, will not the circle be lost?

They understand not the act in itself, the memory to which our dance is attached.
They understand not the reactions they make leave their souls upon the shelf,
Un-animated, un-knowing of the world beyond the horizons shadow.

Take not the burden of another’s soul upon your own till you are whole
For only then do you contain the strength to help them through the void.
Know however that we are never to walk away from the ability to help
For it is only through helping and healing with our words and actions
That we ever ascertain any dream we may wish to accomplish.

20th May 2006

poem by David Lacey
Added by Poetry Lover
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