We’ve all been whipped,

Or had some part of our soul

Turned brittle by the lack of justice

We think we feel.

As we get older we mourn the loss

Of the mystery and wonder that cynicism

Has taken from us and yet we know

It has not disappeared but only been

Misplaced.

We sometimes catch a glimpse of it

In dreams.

A golden ship on the distant horizon.

The sentinels of longing and hope.

We forget and then we remember…

That things are what we think they are.

That there is no darker veil

Than that of our perceptions.

We remember and then we forget.