Poetry: The Wish

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If I could have a single wish, if I

Could rub the bronze bottle and send him back

With two shiny trinkets still in his hand,

If I could blow out the candles or snap

The bone so that magic dust filled the air,

I would wake to find myself surrounded

By people incapable of lying,

People who had dug deep into their souls

To reveal and face the truth and hold it

In close embrace, enduring the sharp pain

Of discovery until an imprint

Burned into consciousness the awareness

That truth is the real source of human love

And the warm seed of the human spirit.

 

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