What do you see,
dear Mother,
from way up high
when you peer down
at the lost world
with your bright eye
through
the keyhole of time,
what reason or rhyme
do you find
in the madness
and mayhem,
creeping bedlam
we have wrought
from your precious gift,
can you heal the rift
we have rent in the
soul of humanity
before the calamity
descends
and ends
your grand Creation?
In hope I peer back
into the night so black,
while your light that waxes
and wanes,
makes sane
the world gone wrong.
Sing me a song,
sweet lullaby
as I softly cry
for the children
and forget them not,
their fateful lot
seems dim and grim;
but they learn and grow,
someday to show what
they have come to know
of truth and hope
as they try to cope
with the mystery of
this glorious green
and blue spinning top
you set in motion
in the time
before time
through the keyhole,
brightly.
Cheryl KP
Copyright 2017
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