a tribute to "the Fountain House", or, "The International Center for Clubhouse Development" (ICCD), 425 West 47th Street, New York, now an international network with centers practically everywhere and advisor to the UN (ECOSOC unit)
Their number are increasing,
all those victims,
not only of society,
but more and more of circumstances
of no accountability for anyone.
They drift along, get lost,
but there is always somewhere
someone waiting for them,
even in your utmost loneliness
you never are alone,
and even if you are,
the crowds of ghosts and memories
are always there reminding you
that you can never separate from life
and least of all by suicide.
There is a fountainhead
that never stops to flow
and keep the current running
of the ever vitally expanding life,
and even if you feel unique about your fate,
you can be certain there are others sharing it.
The problem is, you never are yourself,
but all the life in all the universe
depends on you, for you are part of it.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 454 times
Written on 2008-06-04 at 10:33
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Displaced persons
Their number are increasing,
all those victims,
not only of society,
but more and more of circumstances
of no accountability for anyone.
They drift along, get lost,
but there is always somewhere
someone waiting for them,
even in your utmost loneliness
you never are alone,
and even if you are,
the crowds of ghosts and memories
are always there reminding you
that you can never separate from life
and least of all by suicide.
There is a fountainhead
that never stops to flow
and keep the current running
of the ever vitally expanding life,
and even if you feel unique about your fate,
you can be certain there are others sharing it.
The problem is, you never are yourself,
but all the life in all the universe
depends on you, for you are part of it.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 454 times
Written on 2008-06-04 at 10:33
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
