Sunday, January 7, 2018
Don't Mourn For This Existence
Don't mourn for the one who is utterly alive,
And do something again if it hurts you in this existence.
Don't deprive your neighbour if the glad art of swordplay
Is ever present and displayed by acumens and starts.
If morning comes then evening will rest utterly like voices
From the past, from the heart of the suns and seasons.
I must smile at you, sun, and river and beast, these sudden starts
In the cosmos; stupor is angered by its tread, forever and ever.
Why does the creature of the night be your guide in the light?
The sun and stars will behave like the moon, but never.
The moon is our plan and our side, for the arms of youth
Are experts, and toys of young health are against the mortuary.
My ogre and son is a fine blend of slumber and heat, slackening
In the breezes of a sudden road to hell and heaven as well.
My son and daughter confide in me, as I lie along the pathway
To God, and stare so astonished at the cosmic light so straight.
If even the evening lasts forever, I will complain of the creations
And the creatures will bark at my soul, so that stars will collide
Like molecules also collide, in kinetic and collective ways,
So hardness is a wise appeal, as wise as the kings of the day and night.
Topic(s) of this poem: existence