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Who are we?
This world, this nation, this city, this field, this me –
Are we a part of one another, pieces of the same puzzle?
Do we feel for one another and with one another?
Do we live in isolation, consumed by our own concerns?
Do we give and receive with grace?
Do we want to grow?
Do we seek for solutions?
Do we point out problems, and sit back?
Do we complain, or
Do we get busy?
Are we one of many?
Are we many of one?
Do we always look back, or
Ever forward?
Do we tackle today while
Facing the future?
Hesitant or confident
Optimistic or resigned?
Pessimistic or hopeful?

Who are we, exactly?
Where are we going?
Do we exist?
Or are we but a rising, swelling tide
Of I?


Who are we?
This world, this nation, this city, this field, this me?
Ten years have passed.
Are we seeking the same solutions –
In which nothing is solved.
Stubbornly clinging to emptiness
Insisting it be hailed as substance?
And are we yet alive?
Are we reaching out beyond our place?
Beyond our time, outside the familiar?
Will the wealth of me be offered
For the enough for we?

Can we be more than a collection of I?
Can we reshape the lessons of yesterday
Into a new design for living?
Would peace exist for me
If it did not for we?

Still the landscape burns –
Something is bartered for nothing;
Buildings tumble, life crumbles to dust;
Living becomes an oxymoron.

Will I expend my life elevating myself
By diminishing another?
Do I ever contemplate we before I?
Can we count if I do not?

This I have learned, and
This I know
When I become a part of we
The world turns upside down:

ME becomes WE.

Yet the nascent we
Still waits on me.


Dear Gentle Readers – all is well here in “Blogatical Land,” and I continue to think of you all daily, and as always, I wish you enough. . .