Tears and Whispers

In our efforts to be virtuous we often tolerate injustice. And in our efforts to be just, we often overstep our bounds. True justice lies in knowing the rights of creation. It is why the best of creation (prayers and peace be upon him) was the most moderate in temper, for excellence is the sum of all acts wrought in moderation.

Take care you are not blinded by
The tears in your eyes
That long to weep an ocean deep
For all that they receive;

Take care you are not deafened by
The whispers in your ear
That like the clamor of a hammer
Make your heart to grieve;

But let your inward temperate check
Your hearing and your sight;
There is no virtue if when hurt,
You steal another's right.

Won the "Lighting of the Fire" Poetry Contest

Good news for me. I recently learned that my entry was placed first in the "Lighting of the Fire" Poetry Contest sponsored by Highland Park Poetry and the Ravinia Neighbors Association.
I have been invited to read it at the November 22nd Centennial Celebration of the Ravinia Village House (that's Friday night).

Here's an article talking about the upcoming celebration.
http://www.ravinianeighbors.org/ravinia-neighbors-association-blog/your-invitation-to-a-once-in-a-century-event

And here's the winning poem.
http://www.highlandparkpoetry.org/home.html

My sincere thanks to the Ravinia Neighbors Association and Highland Park Poetry for this recognition. I've pasted the poem below in case the above link expires :-).

A Spark and a Fire

I often set to wonder why
We take the stands we take;
What makes us rise from where we lie,
And stirs our hearts to wake

When forth, the ever silent, speak
To light a tiny spark
That burns a flame by which we seek
To drive away the dark;

Like planters of the olive tree,
They never taste its fruit,
Which, like the one who eats from it,
Knows nothing of its root.

I think the answer might well be
The courage of a few
Whose grit, resolve, tenacity,
And other virtues too

Deliver us to light again
This fire that will burn
In honor of their service then,
An honor we return.

Wind Beneath My Feet

I'm late for work and I'm driving down the street,
I've got the road in my hands and the wind beneath my feet;

I'm worn and weary of the one who makes me yawn,
I'd rather breathe in the colors of the autumn in the dawn;

Will I live to see the sunset and the night?
Will I see this song to its end within my sight?

The only thing I am certain of is this:
That the world is filled with things I will not miss

If I climb the mountain, descend into the cave
Where the mines of merciful love receive a slave;

I won't need to worry if I make it to those mines;
How the darkness goes when the Light of mercy shines

Till I find that diamond and hold it to my face,
Yes, I know my gem of redemption's in that place.

But for now I'm glad that I'm driving down this street,
I've got the road in my hands and the wind beneath my feet;

I feel like everything in the world belongs to me,
I feel like everything in the world belongs to me.


The Messenger, peace be upon him, said, "If anyone among you is secure in mind in the morning, healthy in body, possessed of food for the day, it is as though the whole world has been brought into his possession."