Fallen be the president no one voted for.
Fallen be the tyrant who found himself at war.
Fallen be the one who sang and danced the floor.
Fallen be an age that we will see no more.

Uniforms and flags bedeck the one.
One's killers hid in hooded masks till done,
And one man's songs played to generations
of mothers and fathers to daughters and sons.

Piracy & clemency earned publicity.
Indecency & genocide got secrecy.
Singing, dancing taught society
to sing of peace and living free.

Where are we now as seasons turn,
When all killings make our stomachs churn?
When, O when will we ever yearn
Enough for Peace to be the Way we learn?

For yearn we must to see that day
When we learn that hatred does not pay
Little children indeed may lead the way
To rise together, to sing, to dance, to play.

(c)2007 J.D.Huss


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I like your final message. Shall a little child lead us?

Do we look with hope to the "children explicate," our own (grand)children?

Or do we look to the "children implicate,"
to a radical transformation of consciousness and of imagination -- BACK in age?

Or is the answer, as usual, simply "yes"?

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