The Good of Goodness

What makes it good to be good?
Whence does morality come?
Who says life must at all costs be preserved
Even though this one counts less than some?
What makes it bad to be bad?
Why not just serve “number one”?
When did self-centeredness score such a loss
And self-sacrifice hit a home-run?

What makes it good to be kind?
Nature devours all the weak!
Mercy and peace are unknown in the wild:
Only sharpness of tooth, claw and beak.
Power and swiftness are prime.
Prowess and ruthlessness reign.
How did we humans escape jungle law,
Far more “civilized” rules to sustain?

What makes a virtue so fair?
Even when vice offers thrills...
Even when I welcome temptation’s lure,
It’s tough virtue deep pleasure instills.
Why do such heroes inspire
When “giving in” would cost less?
What makes self-serving excuses seem vain
Every time good is put to the test?

Is good a matter of choice?
Did we all simply “count heads”?
Was it a sociological poll
Or a weaving of DNA threads?
Is good a meaningless mist?
Is moral outrage a joke?
Are peace and genocide equally just--
No more crucial than “Pepsi or Coke?”

Is good a practical truth?
Simply the best way to thrive?
Is then “pragmatic” the highest of heights?
Then, why should the weak be kept alive?
Or why make beautiful things?
Why waste our time on such frills?
Such window dressing serves no basic need--
Only practical stuff “pays the bills”!

The good of goodness is God.
His is the law in our hearts.
Yes we might doubt or deny it is so,
But the whole beats the sum of its parts.
For God’s own image was breathed
Into His first Garden pair...
And though that likeness is fallen and scarred,
That law’s echo and voice are still there.


MNA  5.17.15

Beauty's Renewal

I woke to find a world devoid of war
where no one bears a grudge or locks his door
or fears to wander naked in the wild
or trust an unknown neighbor with his child:
a world where threat and peril walk no more.

I opened eyes to gaze upon a garden
where none still knows the need to plead for pardon
or beg for alms or seek a healing balm
or find a sage her tortured mind to calm:
a place of grace and peace beyond the Jordan.

I rose to walk in wonder down the strand
now free from heaven’s curse on life or land
where oceans churn with only gentle tides
and nature with its lords no more collides:
a paradise unstained on every hand.

I left my dreams behind to enter bliss
where death and wrong my Prince will all dismiss
and offer there with riven hands and feet
the prize which here is only bittersweet:
the sleeping Beauty’s pledged, awakening Kiss.


MNA 4.26.2015