Symposium Poem by Gert Strydom

We still wanted to talk and philosophise
over that which happened,
was coming and was occurring right now
and learn something from it

but my words disappeared
while a rain storm
was unfolding outside
and thunderbolts
draw blue-white lines
with long fingers

and inside
between the rumbling
of voices
I heard a blowfly
going around and around
caught in its own orbit
where there were coffee cups
that where not taken

l’Envoi
and then I thought
what does man really know
and is our time here
not also measured out
till a set day, hour,
minute and second

and while we think that we know
we stray blindly
about on this planet

and in the sky
I heard the works
from the hands
of the almighty Lord resound
before the first drops of rain
fell refreshing to the ground.