Some keep the Sabbath going to Church --
I keep it, staying at Home --
With a Bobolink for a Chorister --
And an Orchard, for a Dome --
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice --
I just wear my Wings --
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton -- sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman --
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at least --
I'm going, all along.
Emily Dickinson
"Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy didn’t change the world by asking people to join their Facebook crusades or to download their platforms. Activism can only be uploaded, the old-fashioned way — by young voters speaking truth to power, face to face, in big numbers, on campuses or the Washington Mall. Virtual politics is just that — virtual."
Thomas L. Friedman, New York Times
Thomas L. Friedman, New York Times
Ebb & Flow
Amber skies stretch out across
mountains rich like indigo
Blackness bleeds to grey and light breaks
As dawn slowly lifts the shadows
A path once forgotten as I strayed
looking to follow those from before
Kicking up dust with their swollen shoes
Signs linger cross the earth strung cross the shore
Not as easy to look within and see with eyes
unblinded by life's rose colored lenses
To see the truth as bare as a rigid desert
Beyond the walls of brick , beyond chain linked fences
I will not view the world in black and white
as only coal dust in mouth or sweetness of new snow
I will see the reds, the golds, and the silver lining
Adjusting the tip of my soul to capture both ebb and flow
Delias Thompson
Amber skies stretch out across
mountains rich like indigo
Blackness bleeds to grey and light breaks
As dawn slowly lifts the shadows
A path once forgotten as I strayed
looking to follow those from before
Kicking up dust with their swollen shoes
Signs linger cross the earth strung cross the shore
Not as easy to look within and see with eyes
unblinded by life's rose colored lenses
To see the truth as bare as a rigid desert
Beyond the walls of brick , beyond chain linked fences
I will not view the world in black and white
as only coal dust in mouth or sweetness of new snow
I will see the reds, the golds, and the silver lining
Adjusting the tip of my soul to capture both ebb and flow
Delias Thompson
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