Nothing New by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Oh, what am I but an engine, shod 
With muscle and flesh, by the hand of God, 
Speeding on through the dense, dark night, 
Guided alone by the soul’s white light. 

Often and often my mad heart tires, 
And hates its way with a bitter hate, 
And longs to follow its own desires, 
And leave the end in the hands of fate. 

O, mighty engine of steel and steam; 
O, human engine of blood and bone, 
Follow the white light’s certain beam— 
There lies safety, and there alone. 

The narrow track of fearless truth, 
Lit by the soul’s great eye of light, 
O passionate heart of restless youth, 
Alone will carry you through the night.

Afterthought

At the micro-sociological level, most humans are doing better than ever. Yet there is so much confusion, suffering
and bitter resentment. How many beautiful, privileged people have I not heard whisper to me, late at night, that if
it were up to them, they would never have been born; that they are angry with the world; that they were let down;
that they live with guilt and self-doubt; that their friends and families are hypocrites? These are signs of the
alienation suffered by modern human beings.

Hanzi Freinacht