(From the biking philosophers’ notebook)
If the world is separate from us,
All its systems
waltzing madly onward
toward our doom,
And we have no reign, no reins —
If someone else has made these bad decisions
And we, as pawns, must pay
in servitude and stress
There is no hope
But if we dream the world
in our sleep and in our aspirations
And if the world is breathed into its being
by our collective breath
And by our inspiration
Then nothing that we see exists outside ourselves
And as we heal ourselves
we’ll breathe it whole.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 1, 2012