I Cry

by Good Sign on January 31, 2012

By Kevin Alan Lamb

I cry for those who don’t believe in mankind

I cry for those who think it’s acceptable to leave the less fortunate behind

I cry for those who don’t believe in their dreams

I cry for those who die amongst mediocrity despite being blessed with the means

I cry for those who know it all

I cry for those without a helping hand to offer to those who fall

I cry for the love that burns fervently in my soul

I cry for vision of dreams that alas insisted I grow

I cry for those who only shed tears for themselves

I cry for the egotistical man and the world’s problems on which he never dwells

I cry tears of joy for the apathetic man muted by greed and a perpetual constant of nothing to say

I cry for children whose parents discourage the light and dreams in their eyes

I cry for the love the world is missing by hiding their heart in disguise

I cry for vision wasted on men pissing potential on a credential solely for exaggerated ego

I cry for the racist man that sees MLK as a Negro

I cry for love wasted on the wretched that have chosen to be incapable of loving themselves

I cry for the storyteller and the story he no longer tells

I cry for light consumed by darkness

I cry for the lonely accepting that love wasn’t meant for all of us

I cry for the miserable that will kill for company

I cry for the musician sold on the idea that there’s no place in this world for his creation and accompaniment

I cry for the entitled and their subsequent desired titles

I cry for stories written by editors and not writers

I cry for kingdoms in the sky without keys for the likes of you and I

I cry for love lost, love never had, but infinitely for belief fled from to perpetuate the disheartened and mad

I cry for souls and suns that no longer set

I cry for the indifferent, living lives void of purpose because a cause they never met

I cry for the miserable and the misery they expect

I cry for those who think this is about me

I cry for the vision the masses refuse to see

I cry tears of joy for those who believe

I cry tears of joy for an army of peace

I cry tears of joy for tyrannous dictators brought to their knees

I cry tears of joy for the need we will appease

I cry tears of joy for our journey across the seven seas

I cry tears of joy for collaboration without fees

I cry tears of joy for a starving child that feeds

I cry tears of joy for Good Signs planted like seeds

I cry tears of joy for the illiterate child that one day reads

I cry tears of joy for the hopeless man that one day preaches

I cry tears of joy for a world without oil on its beaches

I cry tears of joy for a world where the less fortunate thrive and are no longer leaches

I cry tears of joy for a global community without dividing lines like creases

Photo Credit to Eric Hampton

This poem was inspired in the loving passing of Carol Davio, mother of my new friend and media partner, Mark Davio. After learning of his mothers death I felt like fate intended for me to attend her funeral, even though I did not know her and had only met Mark once.

Growing up I fled at the sound of the dreaded word “church”, yet the last two services I have attended have each inspired a book I am now working on. The first came Christmas day. I agreed to go with my parents because it felt like the right thing to do, and immediately after agreeing I discovered my mom’s brother, Arunas, had passed.

While at mass I decided I would attend one religious service of different denomination and culture each week, interview a representative of the congregation, speak with its members, and write a book titled “LITTLE faith”. In a world that wages war over the differences of religion I will focus on how they are similar. I will embrace each unique culture in an effort to reduce barriers by backwards mapping their individual religion to the original source of the word.

The second, “The Ones We Love”, came to me with such perfect clarity during Carol’s funeral service that I knew my compassion was being immediately rewarded. I will attend two funeral services a month and tell the story of the deceased by discovering the fruits of their life by talking with the ones they loved.

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