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.