Benedict Lestat


Mere Distraction - Poem by Benedict Lestat

Note: Please don´t look for any rhyme in this one - there´s none.

We wonder and care for so many things,
No point in counting them.
We might become old, wise, grown up you´d say,
Still wondering tho even why.

And not even those we consider the wisest among us,
Really can give us the answer.

I may not be old, and sure I´m not wise,
But there is still something I know.
That existence can surely be answer enough,
To every question you might ask.

Believe it, it´s more than just hard for me,
To even put down only these few and short lines,
Because we get always distracted by things,
So amazingly small, yet overly loud,
That we may totally forget we are already underway.

We always struggle to improve, posess and know,
So we don´t recognize who we are and what we do until it´s all over you know?
Some of us may grow this old that they die of natural causes,
So they have the chance to look back and wonder where all those precious years have gone.

And most of them are rather sad that they have accomplished so few,
Might they have been Managers, Philosophists, Believers, Atheists, Men or Women.

Most of those who are satisfied have family,
Only few are happy for having wealth, fame or power,
When it comes to the end.

Our soul is always lonely and on its own, during the time we care to keep its vessel healthy and complete.
That is why we communicate and get to know each other.
There is always a barrier between the hearts of men,
A barrier we can´t get through while living our life.
So we pray in many different ways to something,
We hope it might be or provide the sense behind all this.

Science is our shield, our way of understanding the places we live in, the ways we are acting, the thoughts we might have.

If a person is trying to define an universal sense only for himself, we call him an artist - envy and praise him for the thoughts he made for himself.

We may be alone on ourselves with nobody to completely understand us.
Yet, we are all one, we form an unique species which is capable of questioning its own existence.
Mankind forms a mosaic while watched very closely no part can tell why lying next to the other or what picture it might provide when watched from above -
this might be a reason for religion


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Read poems about / on: family, women, lonely, believe, sad, power, happy, hope, alone, woman



Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 7, 2004



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