It's a wonderful thing to be able to study these things, isn't it? The last three lines were fantastic. Because of Jon's wonderful post on the forum, I've a better appreciation of how "religion to self righteousness" has no meaning for those who don't hold the theory of sin, righteousness whether self administered or other administered has no meaning. "love to wait" I found a very satisfying adjective to the previous line and "snow to spring" a yearly constant for those in higher climes. Lovely writing.

Good back and forth imagery. Liked it a lot.

Crackling imagery George...i too liked it a lot

Great write. Love the word play.

An excellent poem, I really like the comparative lines. The imagery is very strong too.

I don't worry too much about snow turning to spring, but can certainly see the other points of miscommunication and reinterpretation happening all around me. Thank you.

Yes, the ages have continued for ages it seems, without change, at least not much on the inside. Technology, whether in science or medicine doesn't seem to be an evolution that diminishes the art of war on a large scale, or cruelty on a smaller one. You aptly move from one comparative side to the other as the ages are simply a history of sides, of concepts, of belief systems, in which one feels he is choosing 'this or that' side, or happens to be born into 'this or that' side. Will winter ever turn to spring? Will the cold heart of man ever thaw when his inward psychological state of affairs hasn't evolved since the beginning of thought? Can I evolve this psyche of mine in time, or has time proven to be the anti evolutionary element for the mind? I really like this piece George. It deals with the essential questions.

...i clasped my hands around this one and made a mud-pie...loved the ingredients...had to make it round, like this piece. good write.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven --and a way for man to attempt to pervert it. Your words are poetic politics in a world that has lost a sense of itself. Thank you for the read.

I love this too, George.Very well stated and so very true. I especially love the simplicity of the very last line. Thank you for sharing this creative poetics of human expression.

all the articles of life are contained within a piece of clay to bend in whatever shape the masses see fit and then arrives the poet, the individual on the stage to shape, fashion it away from the mass conception into something more soulful and more reasonable and truer to its original form, whatever that may be. so when there is a misconstruing taking place and day is mistaken for night, it is all to do with having as yet discovered a way to construe it back to its original form, whatever that may be.