What is this I feel?
My loins long to be an alma mater.
My bosom wants to suckle a new generation—
To love them and to be for them a home
Free from the curses of old ancestry.
A pure salvation based on nurturing
The True, the astral gifts that burn within,
The natural, freeborn curiosity.
How, when we barely reinvent the wheel,
Will we ever reach the mountain’s glowing glen,
Where love reigns, and the value seen in all—
Each life, in itself, a free verse poem.
The crushing blows of life will ceaseless come.
Incremental losses full in view.
The gains are seen by the heart,
And seem insignificant,
But maybe they are incremental, too.
-jenn long
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