XXI The World

Our scars are older than cities
          Our pulse keeps time
     with the mountainside

We inhale in the tides,
We exhale into the whirlwind

In dreaming, the very planet
     moves beneath our hands
          On waking, we find that
               We do not dream

We have no identity
     No unifying theme
          We rally beneath no flag
But our souls are connected
And no difference can be
Found between us

Our voices raise in multitudes
     but speak in unison
We say we are one
          We are, in truth, nothing
We emerge into being
And raise ourselves into the light.

Timothy Hamilton
Copyright 1994-2002

Excerpted by permission from:
From The Fool to The World
Stars Calling Press
PO Box 12424
410 Elizabeth Street
Melbourne VIC 3000
Australia
timhamilton@email.nu