The fields are good to you, offering food and comfort.
And the sky offers you an airy hat to wear, in fact,
The sky offers a hat to the whole earth. Nice, yes?
Of course, you have your wounds to bind,
And you have your various illnesses. Why cry?
Your blood is already spilled. A murder of crows
Drops from the sky to eat what is left on the fields.
In the notes, the music of an old song,
I am you.
And in the punchline of an old joke,
You are me.
Come. Take my hand.
I cannot see the stage, but I believe
That our show is about to begin.
I wrote a letter to the World,
It said, “Dear World,
Live life one moment at a time.”
It’s good advice,
But you know the World.
Maybe you are searching among the branches, for what only appears in the roots.
Revolution is not something fixed in ideology, nor is it something fashioned to a particular decade. It is a perpetual process embedded in the human spirit.
It is simply impossible to improve either oneself or the world by force.