Weaving Words

"On the land they minister with care, the prisoners came out today

To cut the wheat and take in the air

From the road passing, my eyes were caught by the sight:

The prisoners had gone, leaving rows of straight half-stalks-gold"

Come with me, and if you will, we can cry our lamentations as we look into the present; or, we in flame our spirit with a different vision: a world of knowledge, a world contained, a world humane. Here in this poetry collection we break the rush of inane progress which is taking us towards dangerous shores, then discern a greater call, to move our feet and dance.