For what it's worth, the world still turns
upon its gyre, so likely we will see the sun
tomorrow, and the next day. Fire burns,
wind blows, and even one and one
still equal two. Most things don't change,
though good and evil sometimes rearrange.
Even at death, the sick man's blood
will fever up in searching for a cure.
And all the world may go to fire and flood
but youths in love will still believe it good and pure
and make their vows. Walls, floors, ceilings
stand or fall regardless of the finer feelings.
Though ideals fail, new grass will shoot
up from the ground, the weave of silk
still feels the same, as does the smell of fruit.
And people still will purchase bread and milk
despite the death camps. Life advances
amid the best and worst of circumstances.
And, no--these little things won't save us.
The souls who found delight in clever craft
of pottery or poetry still did outrageous
genocides. The Nazis laughed
at bad jokes with their fellows. What is primeval
in human life is given to the good and evil.
So, learn it now: the world's not blessed.
Still. Each day, infants blinking from their birth
reach blind hands out for mothers' breast
and mostly find it,
for what that's worth.
