Waking in the morning after a night of sadness, grief and weeping/ wondering where the lights of the world are when/ what I hear in the daily news is / about those who  would steal away what is good/  there are the sound bytes of woman weeping and wailing/ their children's flesh torn from their hearts/ So I am here in sterile suburbia waiting/ for the sweetness in the world to return/I am waiting to breathe in relief/ a rebirth of innocence no bad news/ no tales of children, mutilation and death/ no tales of greed, power over reason/ no rushing to get on numbly to the next thing /   I am waiting for the wasting away of the precious things to end/ I am waiting for the poems of Rumi to be a daily prayer/ no more righteousness to change the mind of the non believers/ only a pure love  easily streaming/ worn clear and through to the brain and the heart's bed/  Beloveds all in a country knowing - more about creating than breaking down.