| A Night's Contemplation | The Cruel Wind |
| Have you ever spent an hour of wonder | The cruel wind cries its banshee howl; |
| In the starlight night of dreams? | Is it mourning for the dead, |
| Have you dreamt of broken images, | The slaughtered children in the streets, |
| Of wild and darkened scenes? | The murdered in their beds? |
| Has your ego screamed for confirmation | |
| That your body is your own? | Is it screaming out a swan's last song, |
| You must have thought for once, as I, | Some dark and haunted melody? |
| That this world is not your home. | Is it calling to spectres from the grave - |
| To join in obscene harmony? | |
| What Else Is heaven For? | |
| Or does it sob in sympathy | |
| I reach beyond my earth-bound grasp | For the lonely, sad and lost, |
| To dance on nirvana's shore. | Hoping to match their broken hearts |
| I snatch as dancing dreams float by | With bitter, biting frost? |
| Along and out the door. | |
| For we were born to touch the sky; | |
| What else is heaven for? |
Michael James Heron
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