Poor poem

Somewhere, somewhere there is light, there is right,
It has to be so - my teacher and my priest taught me so.

Nowhere, nowhere is there hunger, poverty and pain,
And the birds don't fly and there is no such thing as rain.

Beauty is in a woman's face, and a child's smile,
Ugliness litters the pavements and minds of humanity.

And yet, And yet we still have rope and hope -
rope to hang ourselves with - hope to uncoil the knot!

But listen, dear reader, it is our choice - not theirs to spoil our world,
but to caress it with a loving breath - my breath is given!

Gord Lord