in the mean-time
when life is not always what it seems

nor is

when what is

distant is

from ideals and time's ideals:

we trudge through the mud

formed from our rain of tears

from heavy eyes fashioned 

from dirt and clay

clothing our feet
our wheels

life's not all we want

or dream

we search for flowers without thorns

yet thistles assert their beauty

we dream perfection
right now

all heaven on earth

right now

but Adam and Eve arrive

each day

with mirrors we cannot break

or broken 

we can't repair

we try forgetting

but need rememb'ring

for doing so might help

living in the mean-time

in our muddled selves

redeemed and earthed

now and forever

thanking God

*Reflections of Jean Sulivan:

  -No person can understand thoughts she doesn't bear already in herself.

  -Don't be afraid to leave the spectacle behind, along with the guilt and the categorical imperative, and turn toward a joyous life.  You'll communicate more happiness by living than you will with all your hard work and prudence.

  -The West is the third world of the spirit.  Its sadness can't be fathomed; it's the sadness of those who are separated from themselves, insatiable.  The poverty and destitution of the third world still leaves room for fraternity in collective agony.  In the West agony is individual.  Old and young, sick and handicapped - all are placed in the charge of specialists but are irredeemably alone.

  -Technocratic rearrangements are insignificant and can offer no remedy to the illness secreted by a profit society.