Steven G. Alston Poems

Sometimes in our forgetfulness we attach too much
importance to ourselves.
We think too much about our own thoughts, our own ideas.
We think that before we came, nothing happened that had meaning.
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Men speak of war, of conflict and racial strife
Of heartaches in abundance all the infirmities of life.
But the tounge is silent, no nothing can be heard
About he who helps his neighbor with a kind, considerate word.
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Dare not dismiss the dreamer
He with his head in the clouds
As but a silly bumbling fool
An impractical simpleton who as a rule
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