© 1986 Barbara Grace Lake
How sterile a mind that perceives not of vision but profit alone
Devoid an existence supporting no dream of its own
For believing not
That spirit endures a perdition of grandeur unknown
bereft of our dreams we must heedlessly drift in the passage of time
Embracing immutable modes of prosaic design
And conceiving not
Despair for the purpose in lives we mundanely confine
We, foolish, unthinkingly ceded our aims to the God of content
Consigning our hopes to a waste of aborted intent
And achieving not
Have forfeit what noble accessions to which we were meant
Are men so inherently fearful we see not the bonds we entice
By wantonly clutching to every conforming device
And perceiving not
Are judge and coadjutor damning our spirit’s demise
Will history tell of this age in the eons that men still must pass
That here in obscurity lay our ambitions enmasse
And so grieving not
Go on to a bolder, more challenging day for repast
Or can we still find our inheritance, chaliced and sacred of dreams
And dare to endure the adversity striving might mean
And deceiving not
Regain rightful dignity lost in the struggle for means
