Something from way, way back . . .
Here’s a poem I wrote when I was nineteen. I like what it implies about spiritual values and the integration of benevolence and self-interest.
I hope you enjoy it!
My father gave to me a kite,
But I’d no need in its lone flight;
For though it had a nine-foot span,
’Twas not enough to lift this man.
I took it down to old Byrd Park;
On one small face it made its mark.
There was a boy that it could lift;
My present then became my gift.
His small face grew to big brown eyes;
My hand held out, “See if it flies.”
Big wind picked up as if on cue—
Big kite. Big day. Big high it flew.
Now when in flight that kite I see,
It is enough to lift—lift me.