Erhard Hans Josef Lang
Why Things Don'T Think Of Us, Too, In Return? - Poem by Erhard Hans Josef Lang
Why not let troubled things talk and hold council with you?
Or do you relish the birth-pangs' banging between clashes?
Things can't talk, yes, or can they? !
You may only proffer your own fantasy
To give them a mouth-piece?
What are we then?
Just simply a piece of flesh, sensing the numbness of the chair we sit on?
Or are we the brain in the chair? !
I found it not to be a madman's pass-time, only, to let things talk to me through myself:
That perilous leaning tower did exactly not tumble over me when I walked past,
As I had beseeched it not to do so.
And be it that I was just delayed for its fateful fall for speaking my prayers.
And, as a trusting thanks-giver, I find,
I'm yet faring best with things.
And how sweet things may talk to one!
And then they won't talk more than I want them to.
And let us not forget: people are things, too!
And they say, all is in one.
Things called it god.
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