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My experiences, reappearances, times have been the same.
My grievances, my pretenses, all remain.
I had hope, but it’s no longer early:
There is a need for change- the type that matters.
Life’s taken us for a ride on this silver platter-
Was it a platter of silver or one of gold?
Many times the story’s been told.
Of the apples of that tree forsaken:
Many were not meant to be taken.
Some were to be left for those with hunger.
But that tree was emptied, by the stronger and the younger.
The world starts timeless, except for day and night.
It leads us each day, a new way, to find
Once, seen under the great shining light,
Was the path by which we were to leave all behind.
The brighter the glow, the more our prosperity grew,
And brought to us things without meaning.
There were so many shiny things we knew,
And the most valuable, we thought, was the one brightest gleaming.
But one day the tree of the apple had no more to share,
And we had to search. And in that search our greed appeared.
Years passed by, all of them the same: look, compare.
Now we are in jeopardy, facing just what we feared.
We have taken more than what was given
Plundered lives we should have left livin'.
We should have worked together to plant a new tree.
But now neither silver nor gold can provide for thee.
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Writer Profile
Timothy G. Branfalt Sr.
We are all within each other. When that is realized, our prejudice and communication interference will be that of telepathic communication. We will be one with each other and one with the world. These bodies are only temporary forms that keep us restricted from our own heavenly place.
It is only a temporary restriction, especially upon those who intend to use their "physical attributes" with just the selfish, social advancement of themselves.
If this world had started to gain acceptance and understanding of all problematic errors within, we may have been able to share these "advancements" with our brothers and sisters, who are NOW--not later--in danger, not from the immediate natural disasters, but of those that will not surrender the help they need to overcome their immediate handicaps.
The ones of unshared power with food, shelter, clothing, and then to add the militia.
The militia could have been justified, if its intentions were there for the less fortunate, not to take more from the unfortunate.
I live on my lifelong work of gathering a pension, which is paid back to me only due to many years of work. Others work hard, and see nothing. All I have to Always say is "Me casa, es Su casa!", Mucho Amore e "Pura Vida!"
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Comments
Should be in every language clarita zarate | Sep 9th, 2009
I love every thing you write. You have been able to nurture the real poet and keep him alive. Often writers cross a fine line into a world of recognition and become in your words 'the mime' . Others who fail when reaching out for 'the shiniest gem' spend the rest of their days cursing life for being unfair to them. But a few, like you, just keep on writing because it feels good to be human!
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