Karma Poem by George Murdock

One day a wind will rise
from the furrows
of a barren field
and move through the jagged frames
of broken windows
and bullet holes in walls
and through the cages of bleached ribs
and sardonic grins of skulls
this wind will rise from the sunfilled skies
and brush the cheeks of sleeping lovers
beneath the boughs of swaying Willows
and startle the still winged dragon flies
on the face of a glassy brook
this wind will gust in its race to find rest
and break like the shards of a wave
on some deserted foreign shore
where no foot has ever set
and never will