an imaginal figment,

a small splotch of colored pigment,

held in the eye of the beholder,

it allows righteous anger to smoulder,

a lie for an eye,

a tooth for the truth

that punishment never replaces what is lost,

always it fails at great cost.

and a man dressed in robes, be they black or they white,

doesn't have the power to declare what's wrong or right,

to punish or demean the miracle of a life

that's already horribly ravaged by so much pain and strife,

sure, it may be ok to take someone away from hurting others with a violent act, who break the social contract,

but we don't need to become what we hate, and create a painfully recalcitrant state,

I wonder, can we become aware of our hateful human passions, and slowly practice steering them towards compassion.

- David Dybdal