We Have No Choice But To Be

To See The Earth As We Now See It, Small And Beautiful In That Eternal Silence Where It Floats, Is To See Ourselves As Riders On The Earth Together, Brothers On That Bright Loveliness In The Unending Night ~ Brothers Who See Now They Are Truly Brothers.

Spring Has Many American Faces. There Are Cities Where It Will Come And Go In A Day And Counties Where It Hangs Around And Never Quite Gets There. Summer Is Drawn Blinds In Louisiana, Long Winds In Wyoming, Shade Of Elms And Maples In New England.

If You Commit Yourself To The Art Of Poetry, You Commit Yourself To The Task Of Learning How To See, Using Words As Elements Of Sight And Their Sounds As Prisms. And To See Means To See Something Worth All The Agony Of Learning How To See.

Our Reliance In This Country Is On The Inquiring, Individual Human Mind. Our Strength Is Founded There; Our Resilience, Our Ability To Face An Ever-changing Future And To Master It. We Are Not Frozen Into The Backward-facing Impotence Of Those Societies, Fixed In The Rigidness Of An Official Dogma, To Which The Future Is The Mirror Of The Past. We Are Free To Make The Future For Ourselves.

A World Ends When Its Metaphor Has Died.