Some shade of blue above I fail to see
or autumn leaves that used to bring delight
so inward have I turned – but not with thoughts of me
with sadness for the gruesome coming night.
Man ever turns away from all but kin –
and farthest now of all times I recall –
yet spouts alot of tripe that mentions sin
as if his sin was not the worst of all.
Each man must see his fellow as a brother
TODAY – for there may never come another