The Sun Around Her Views All Orbiting Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

The sun around her views all orbiting
The various planets of our system
Made. To-night
They will be orbiting
And we
On our side of the earth see the stars
The others see a view different:
But so phenomena work
So the Principles of the mass universe
Though relative to proportion bend
Their knees, always propense.


We
We humans, as we are, to-day
Consider ourselves as the evolved
Of the past days, and better,
Higher to the clouds and
Heavens, higher to Jove
And the Olympian Gods,
More fit than previous centuries
To be
Nearer the tables of the God themselves.
We
We humans consider so, so ourselves.


Amidst this earth rise high in glory
And pleasant living the rich and
Powerful: for them suffering is
Relative. The rest of the human herd
Is bound to suffering; for it
Days are always of black nights
And no new dawn
Arises on horizons in each day:
But the same grueling dark of night
And sufferings.


Is this great gods, Justice?
We,
We boasters of democracy, of
Order international, law international
Allow all this: we know, know well
For our means of knowledge are
Refined more than in other days:
Yet, we, the self-named sons of
Democracy allow all this and pass
And smile.


So bound in this evolution of ours
We tie chains international
Now
Now yes, not just in States
Isolated here and there and
Interspersed with small areas
Where freedom at least relative still
Reigns.


Now
In the dwindling light of the old
Ancient stars we lurk
With ghosts and shrouds and
Better do, if we with them
At least our souls arise
With them lament and roam
About the streets and cities
At night.
Then sleep in our cozy beds
And dream and smile.


You see, my Monsignor,
There is but little, little,
And that relative, to smile.
Our civilizations grow and yet is
Stale somewhere.
O cut the chains!
The glittering blindness of gold
And wealth and lands and power
Wise human forego:
Arise! With evolution to these
Limits too.


And you,
And you,
You, my mother, who passed
The last days breathing,
Nay last years,
Here in poverty’s miseries
And
In the throes of saintly sufferings
In you
Mother I see how should heal,
The medicine for our earth is
But
In your last years breathing here:
O human be advised and wisdom hear.


The ghosts lament and the shrouds
Too lament
In their own language
And in any case
Their lament is so low
So like bird humming:
Wise Poet-Seers will indicate
What lament ghosts and shrouds
Nocturnal make of late.


We are fallen too low,
Relatively,
Or put in as in other words
Not raised so high as we
Picture ourselves in our revelry
That we in evolution move so fast:
The first of lesson be more humble
Too; the next more earnest; then
Shed all
The chains of power and wealth and
Steel your souls with ancient virtue
Such as Rome and Greece
In their own days heroic demonstrate:
Then
Humans going back that way,
We forward go.