so many stories lost in ugly things.
the common world we choose to think beneath —
and so, we hear not what each echo brings:
remembered songs their lives to us bequeath.
a moment for reflection – just a turn –
it’s all we really need, it’s all it takes —
we have to know the tales, so we can learn
and not just substitute some new mistakes —
we should not venerate, nor should we scorn,
the lessons of the many come before;
and though new problems every day are born,
we didn’t invent hate, or love, or war —
for time will the turn pages of the book,
the chapters we will miss, if we don’t look.