If Thought A Man Maketh Poem by Kenneth Bell

If, in truth, a man is what he is in the dark,
In his inmost, secret thoughts, hid from public eye,
Then which of us would escape being an imperfect being,
Except he whose mind is the captain of his soul,
Heeds the promptings of the spirit, and commands his instincts,
His antipathies and desires, ambitions and apathy,
The feelings of courage and fear, of joy and despair, of confidence and inadequacy,
That buffet him in his waking hours,
And project upon his mind in kaleidoscopic vision,
Those self-same contradictions
When wrapped in the veil of sleep?

If, in truth, a man is what his thoughts are,
Which of us has not been angelic one moment, satanic at another?
Which has not been lord, tyrant, rapist,
A hero with a million fans,
A Don Juan with a thousand lovers,
The richest man on earth with the world for his footstool,
Most gallant lover, most brilliant artist,
Most generous philanthropist, most ingenious scientist?

Which has not been the weakest and most fearful being,
Most covetous, hateful, murderous,
Most superstitious and hypocritical,
Most greedy, most selfish,
Most hyperactive, most lethargic,
Most dominating, most servile
Most haughty, most fawning,
Most vindictive, most subservient,
Most fiendish, most unrepentant?

In short, dear Reader,
Which of us has not been the paragon of virtue and of vice?
Which not divine yet demoniacal?

We are all, dear Reader, every single one of us,
From the smallest to the largest,
The poorest to the richest,
The weakest to the strongest,
The blackest to the whitest,
The stupidist to the cleverest,
The laziest to the intensest,
To a greater or less degree,
Inheritors of the sublimest and vilest traits on Earth!

And, which of us has not been
The greatest weathercock,
The most fanciful, the most staid,
The most mature, the most childish,
The greatest accelerator, the greatest procrastinator,
Most profligate, most thrifty,
Most farsighted, most shortsighted,
The greatest believer, the greatest sceptic,
Most forgiving, most vengeful,
Most inquisitive, most uninterested?

In short, dear Reader,
Which of us has not been like a pendulum
Swinging from one extreme to the other,
Never coming to rest at mid-course?

And, aren't we all achievers and non-achievers,
Though most non-achievers, in fact?
But, if we are, indeed, what our thoughts are all about,
Haven't we achieved as much as any other?

For, which has not sailed the seven seas,
Scaled the highest mountains,
Fathomed the abysmal oceans,
Explored the wildest jungles,
Trudged the most torrid deserts,
Trekked the bleakest icelands,
Swum the swiftest rivers,
Traversed the boundless cosmos,
Reached the farthest star,
Commuted between Earth and Moon,
Revelled in the joy of Heaven
And wasted in the Bottomless Pit?

So, dear Reader,
In thought we're all the same -
The best, the worst,
Achievers and non-achievers.
The labels we brand each other with
Are for only those things that show!

Kenneth M. Bell,
Surat, India, June 1983.