Colin F. Jones

WE CAN BUT HOPE

If nothing dies then nothing lives,
Leaves fertilize the Earth,
Death takes from life what it gives,
But never reforms in birth.

No matter what we think or say,
The dead do not return;
Their bodies rot with gross decay,
Or in fire they do burn.

We dream, we dream, such minute men,
As man has always done,
Hoping that we’ll come again,
That life over death has won,

But still the mystery wins the day,
While men do guess and scheme,
Defying all they have to say,
While nurturing the dream.

While in our souls we gather love,
And our attitudes are kind,
The God we pray to up above,
We may yet truly find.

While we wait for death to come,
And wonder where we go,
We will when day is finally done,
Of the darkness surely know.

Until that time let us rejoice,
In the gift of life we share,
And challenge not another’s choice,
Let not our thoughts compare.

Every soldier of every race,
Fights for what he thinks is right,
Though driven by a hate of face,
Or for peace which brings delight.

We are all victims of the times,
Subject to common birth,
A host of complicated vines,
Entwined about the Earth

To all those folk who are oppressed,
Due to their choice of thought,
I can but as a bard protest,
And prejudice abort.

Then let us stand and holding hands,
Let love our hearts embrace
For only then will all the lands,
Unite as the Earth’s one race.