On an ordinary Sunday morning, <br />I feel an urge to send out a warning <br />to the blind and belittled human race. Fools. <br /> <br />And that little song, <br />pleasant and soft to my ears, <br />brightens up the day. <br /> <br />All around remains the knowledge of fate, <br />the sigh of the masses when it's too late, <br />as we stumble in blindness to the bright light. <br /> <br />And that pretty song <br />gives me an endless hope that <br />it's not over yet.<br /><br />Claudia Fitzgerald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-so-little/
