Through A Rain Studded Pane

through a rain studded pane
i stare at a world of petals
pretty on the branch,
while through the mist
the green of trees becomes
a patch of blue to fade far off
where distant mountain peaks
rise up to white snow.

then the sun
with blinding gold
breaks through the mist
and sear my eyes,
now all i see is barren soil,
spoiled by sickness, hunger, wars.

were i not weak,
i’d march as mighty drummer
upon these saddened lands;
i’d drum a drummer’s beat,
a drummer’s dirge,
i’ll drum my muffled drum,
to drum the death of humankind.

i’d seek my God, or
some other God than God,
i’ll stare Him in His eyes, and then
with shouting voice i’ll ask:
can You not please start again?
and then stop! just stop, when You reach:
where distant mountain peaks
rise up to white snow!