A poem by Maria Popova, part of a Class of ’14 Senior Project
A balmy garden in its bloom,
Which scent was meant to soothe and cure,
Becalmed under secret gloom,
Fertile, sumptuous and pure,
The ocean blue – the origin of life
It gave us birth and set us free,
To love, to dance, to share, to Be on
Earth, where virtues were rife
But yet, so fragile in its gist,
Just as a lacy snowflake on a palm
The harmony was fanned within the mist,
And the world never again seemed to be calm.
Profusion gave birth to vices.
As every man desired to possess
All earthly goods at the cost of any prices,
A devil in a wink, if only he owned less.
They were no more the stars of constellations,
But asteroids on a distant dark;
They sold their souls for beckoning temptations,
Cut down all the trees to stir a single spark.
The daily duty became the only Master
And there was no salvation for inevitable disaster.
But man never loses hope
And just as scarlet poppies on the green expanses,
The daring dreams root inside his head
And he is eager to succeed by any chance;
The distant world, island of mind,
Far: a cosmic distance from the Earth
Where people wouldn’t live blind,
Where beauty and perfection would be given birth
So, let’s start over, from the void
A world where souls and minds rejoined
Like words and breath, like cold and snow,
They will connect, accord and flow.