Joseph S. Josephides
The Second Sun
I return from the Space,
having knowledge as my navigator and compass,
stripping the sin and what is connected with it,
without myths. For when I turned once the glob with Vern,
they told me I gained a day, on reverse I would lose one.
Am I a day younger, without knowledge of a day more?
How would I be a day older, without a lie of a day more!
Come in Belem to explain, when the fourth rain starts.
Unexplained is that God sheds light but we stay idle in dark,
when dropped bombs transform our cradles into graves.
You on the moon, Neal, did you conquest or worship?
Knowledge lives not in a doll-house with internets,
nor is afraid of asphyxia in chamber of optic fibers:
Light, the Second Sun of Heraclitus, the knowledge,
a ray warming the head in dry cold. I gain its baptism
surely, if only I knew and worked on what I don’t know;
what I suffer helps me learn so as not to suffer anew.
Due to Light, my Sun bends to the berry tree in our yard
to paint her green, chlorophyll over and over, fiber by fiber,
to ensure food for the silkworm doing the silk of wisdom
to glitter in vast space, a chrysalis through the eternity.
For without wisdom, Andre Malraux,
how the twentieth century can stand?
How the twenty-first can even exist?
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