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Wed Jul 01, 2009 at 16:24:19 PDT
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(9:00AM EST - promoted by Nightprowlkitty)
I read a comment to a diary last Saturday that spoke of the forces that have been suppressed by the Iranian government. There remains a deep resentment in many of the people of Iran for both the way the election was handled as well as the way the demonstrators were dispatched from the streets.
Their sense of disappointment will simmer below the surface for a long time, much like the feelings many in America felt over the past eight years. We were able to vent and rage and rant in ways that will not be tolerated in Iran.
All of this got me thinking about a poem I wrote in the early eighties. I want to share that poem with you, so hop in a barrel and follow me over the fa-a-a-a-alls... |
| Seattle Mark :: Smoldering Embers in Iran |
Maximum Entropy
The fire was smoldering, hidden.
No one knew it was there.
(No one knows whence it comes.)
One day a finger of flame
licked up
and made its presence known.
The fire still smoldered.
The flame flickered on and off,
till a fresh wind fanned it,
and it radiated constant light.
Beauty and Truth emanated from it;
Being was illumined.
The fire was smoldering
as the one finger,
fed by the steady breeze,
multiplied into many.
The one was lost
as it merged with the others.
Soon the fire was burning.
Burning bright.
Flaming, roaring, raging,
consuming everything in sight
till nothing was left.
Not even an ash.
Have at it in the comments section below.
Cross posted at the big orange |
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