While flying over the vast land of California, from South to the North, I saw the mountain tops change from red and bear to green and wooded, each with immense beauty and deep silence.
I thought whether pilots assume certain air of nobleness because they are blessed with God's view.
And I picked up that little selection of poems from years ago. And these words are there, waiting to be uttered.
* * * *
After such knowledge, what forgiveness?
Think now history has many cunning passages, Contrived Corridors
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,
Guides us by vanities. Think now
She gives when our attention is distracted
And when she gives, gives with such supple confusions
That the giving famishes the craving. Gives too late
What's not believed in, or if still believed,
In memory only, reconsidered passion. Gives too soon,
Into weak hands, what's thought can be dispensed with
Till the refusal propagates a fear. Think
Neither fear nor courage saves us. Unnatural vices
Are fathered by our heroism. Virtues
Are forced upon us by our impudent crimes.
These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree.