Life Force

Why sing of hills, rivers, skies and trees
In themselves they remain
Inert objects
Without theme, color and meaning-
Pictures static in time
Until soul invests them
With passion, pain and mystery.
Their beauty is a black curtain
Until love penetrates it like shafts of light

Men and women are toys
Unless divinity shines through their eyes
Like peaceful stars.

Gold heaped on gold
Will turn to coal
Unless bridges are built,
Homes raised
Hunger and thirst appeased
By its golden power.

A book is not a book
Until read
With ever new delight
And a house of bricks
Not really a home
Unless the laughter of youth
Breaks through its walls.