all is in flux,
a continuous change
is the staple
and the weak
are left to fend
for themselves.

are we so happy
that we could cry,
laughing thru our tears?
and with silence,
hope that all pain
goes away.

gone are movie shows,
geometry, tv, ribbons
of gold, no time for
arithmetric or history
or works of art, tho
it's your birthday.

like the alaskan
gold rush people
are scurrying northward
moving like huskys
pulling sleds of emotions
all with shattered edges.

and they would trade
all the gold for
a dry night's sleep,
a day of hope, and
a loving human shoulder
to let the pain have a door.

and yet, this too will pass
as
it
is
through change we find purpose.

09/01/2005