all life is suffering...suffering is caused by desire
She longs to sleep again
in childhood's hour,
To recapture moments-indefinable-
of a tangible, earthly peace.
Her heart would like
a chance to rest,
far away from the woven madness
of her world-there was something on the news
about a war,
how everything is in decay.
"You'd think we'd give in to
the allure of peace," she whispers to me
with sunken, heartsick eyes.
"You'd guess after all of this we'd turn
to that nobody's-dying, nobody's-a-refugee,
nobody-chokes-on-hate state of mind."
I want to tell her something other than
something other than the penetrating,
pervasive, all-consuming power of