Questing

Questing

Dreams for the future
Dreams of the past
Trying for another choice
We could be better ‘if'
         Old men sitting on the park bench
         Why are they smiling?
         Feeding pigeons crumbs of bread
         And the pigeons coo their praise.

Wars fought around the world
Fighting for peace
Games on the internet
Kill one more for the high score.
         Old men sitting on the park bench
         Watching the pretty joggers
         They nod in appreciation
         Returned to their youth, running.

Homeless wake to another day
To begin the struggle again
Stomachs hollow, hungry
Base-line existence, to live
         Old men sitting on the park bench
         Watching the children play
         A child falls and cries out
         Its mother rushes to their aid.

Rancher in Texas rises blinking
His dream was real
Tornadoes came the day before
Head shaking, he starts again to rebuild.
          Old men sitting on the park bench
          Speaking quietly to themselves
          And the ghost from their past
          A smile over a personal joke shared.

Child in the wilds of Africa
Crying for his dead parents
‘Why did they leave him?'
The black man with the gun points to him.
           Old men sitting on the park bench
           Stares into the faces imagined
           Longing their touch, dreaming
           Of his release from loss and pain.

This is where I'm supposed to write something great
To give you the reader a pretty picture
Or at least a sense of ‘good winning'
Do you think the Art is about answers to the world's problems?
Well, sorry, the Art is not for the answer but the search.
The search for what it means to be a ‘Goodman'
And it begins by seeing the truth before you.