Poem 048, Sonnet 18: All-One Poem by Samer Madbak

I loathe your mob, my friends, your plenitude
Insults my loneliness, your populace
Is but the scourge of fragile perfectness,
And in my oneness find I altitude!
I’m one, all one, this is my habitude,
And other matters mind me all the less
Your jamboree, your party profitless
Incite me not, but firm my attitude.
Thus marvel not, my friends, if I but shun
Assembly, to exalt my unity,
To idolize my cloistered entity,
(Self-love is but a tint of Holy sun)
I’m one, show not your pity, nor deride,
Truth, Beauty, Love and God do not divide!


Zgharta
March 28th 1989