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The conductor cries
“End of the line! All change please!”
Passengers wake up
Look round for their possessions
But no pockets in a shroud



Boldly took leave
Of the bellowing city
Walked down to the river
Though the skies opened
Spewing wild wind and water
Piercing even felted clothing

And though there were multitudes
Far more than ever expected
Waited patiently in queue
For that sweet promise
That blessed chance
To, awestruck, touch
The hem of His garment

And in a heartbeat

Not a thing changed

Except now nothing needed to
For some body had instead
And solemnly vowed
To walk in His footsteps
To the ends of the earth
And beyond

Two Tribes


Two tribes on this planet hand to hand
Two questions: how and when (if ever)
Shall we convert this armoured nightmare
This fortified dungeon run on greed and fear
By its bastard sons, rampaging ironclad
Roughshod from poverty to exorbitance
To a life built on sharing, love and laughter?
As above, so below; as within, so without
And the starting pistol is here at hand

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