Order

we seek refuge from chaos but chaos is our mother in the gray cloud wind stirs seabirds spin and cry we may wish it otherwise still there is no song here no song but the push of air dumb and blind as reflex the flag streams in a rush then sags into exhaustion the tree is a sturdy cross where we hang our honor there is no silence on earth but wind and tree and bird do not yield a single word the whistle of wind no tune arrogance might weep at this and claim we are abandoned yet we are part of a universe and it will never leave us humility requires we shelter shelter in the word of chaos and make our song ring forth in symphonies of life and dust