How do we measure time?
the day brings
a profusion of orchestrated sound
the night's stillness-
sings canticles to the dead
while the living
are trapped in partial death
My mind -
a melange
of melancholic molecules -
a shiver of constant vibration
I am caught up - trapped
in a plexus of emotion
and anticipation
I live apologetically -
ill at ease
on the razor edge of time
A brief subtle snap;
abrupt capitulation into
the unknowable
Cataclysmic? No! ! !
At least - I don't think so
Seamless?
Sometimes it appears so
but who knows for sure?
Has anybody returned
to tell the truth?
When the moon is at its zenith
I meet my doppelganger
I look him in the eye
searching for answers
There are no answers -
only questions
Theories galore;
Karmic laws;
natural laws;
indestructibility of energy;
heaven; hell; purgatory;
metempsychosis; last judgement
Who knows?
We theorise; hypothesise;
fantasize;
we rave; we rant
we lie, we kill
we commit heinous crime
because we believe
that our belief
is the ultimate truth
It's as far as we can go
we can't go any further
Our biggest
and most grievous sin
is to live in an inner void;
to emasculate our souls;
to accept and encourage
emptiness as a way of life
Collapsed wings,
we sit circumscribed
in our material realm
Everything in life
has its antithesis;
everything about its
aftermath
is vague - ambiguous;
wrapped in skeins
of inscrutable mystery
Self appointed messiahs,
preachers, priests,
clairvoyants soothsayers
and half clad holy men;
all heave their shoulders
against an iron wall -
in vain
Humility, prayer, penance
denial on one hand
greed, deceit,
material mongering,
megalomania
on the other -
bundles of paradoxical
contradictions
I like it, sounds reminiscent of Oscar Wilde. I think sometimes though we philosophise too much and then we find ourselves on an empty edge, surrounded by our own judgements with nothing left.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem of pervasive sadness both beautiful and profound. How well you handle the English language. You are indeed a skillful wordsmith. That resonates with this reader. The phrase, 'Emptiness as a way of life' is both haunting and evocative. But here we see through a glass darkly. Perhaps, one day, the lights will go on in the windows of the soul. I live for that day.10/10 for your excellent write. Always your friend, Sandra