And tears of pain, a gaping hole in the eye of summer.
The world morphed suddenly into dust and heat
and a flag-draped beginning of a new, frigtening day.
There we were, going our separate ways, waking.
Working, living, arguing – a usual rite of passage,
And there they were, willing acolytes of a sad resolve,
boarding jetliners with armoury of a cultivated god.
Just a little step from the true vanity of all our pain.
So we hope, and dream, and watch, accordingly,
and live with the same wondering resolve: any lessons?
The world remains what it is – a weird blubbering ball
hanging in the daunting mystery of its core, warts and all.
Dedicated to the memory of victims, first responders, firemen and all other casualties of the 9/11 attacks and the war therefrom.