A poem by me: "Salt"

At times, history gifts visions of an earthiness and humility that I will never know. 

Those who came before us knew well the earthiness of skin-splitting labor, the humility of a poor meal, the somber grumbling of stomachs, the meekness of bowing to the dirt.

Yet therein, the dirt, lies a lowly yet priceless fruit.

Often this fruit is overlooked, it is not wanted... it is a fruit that is known by few civilized men.

Indeed our forefathers found this fruit; their hearts leapt with joy and they cherished this fruit.

True, beautiful, holy joy in the midst of unadulterated suffering.

Perhaps we are not so civil.

What little they knew and what is new: boundless hope and joy of a world to come.

We like to think it is not.

What is wisdom? Truth? Knowledge? 

Life is pain, life is ecstasy, life is sin, life is love, life is death, life is as it should be.

Make peace with these and watch the tracks dance behind you.

Recall the yesterday of reality, the reality that lies not where is found drink or drug, screen or dream.

The gift of the piercing cold wind, the chilling, biting air - that is what you seek.

Perhaps that is just me.

I prefer the flavor of salt.