In the cold,
narrow streets of old
Santa Fe
a secluded, warm cafe
I contemplate America
how as a boy
I never thought once of the name
until
I saw
the desert
gazed at the sun
rising slow
outside Roswell
a state road,
no other cars drove,
I am there, I am here
I saw clear
the stars
in those early
morning hours
over the fallen snow
in ol’ New Mexico
Oh America!
It is true you have a soul.
Tell me was it you?
Or was it God speaking to me through the sun?
Should man
speak
the end of his road
Grow silent,
afraid
stand all alone
Whatever you are,
whatever you mean
Let him find
his power and
realize his dreams
For remaining in
the manifestation
lies all your promise,
and unending creation.
Ren Michael 