Footsteps of Hope
It’s easy
Loving perfection—
The notion of the Absolute—
Because there’s nothing to lose.
They sit in air-conditioned rooms
With stained-glass windows
To keep the scars
And pain
Of reality
From disturbing their vision of perfection
That exists only in their delusions.
The wretched—
Hoping for a bit of humanity
On life’s tear stained
Streets—
Are right outside the door.
A prayer may feed
The Absolute
But what we need
Is some bread and water.
— Dean Hall