On The Edge Of Non-Existence - Poem by Phil Charters
ones mind amongst the stars,
to travel free,
to search intrepidly; a single shaft of light
gifted forth, from heavens fires,
to light, the shallow dark;
to ignite, knowings spark;
but oh, the horror now,
abide does one the seeing, the misery
of ones life,
and happiness, now made rescind,
in knowings fateful grip.
Ah, existence Human; how tragicly benign;
a world entrapped; ensconced by intelligence;
Proud one stands, before ones life,
a living edifice, built upon a cliff
a life time spent in toil, a vain attempt
a ceasing to exist.
But know Ye Human this: -
Ones mind can fly with birds, around,
around the world,
or hunt with lions, swim with whales,
the universe engird;
but never see, the face of God,
nor feel his healing hand, ones
wretched life, to move
a concept, all too grand.
Defeated, in frustration, mind shall come
home, amongst the rotting flesh,
and in the fetid stench, that is decay,
now shall the whole thing die;
Perhaps it's all a lie.
But see a person buried, beneath the
no-longer has a worth;
rewarded, not for ones persistence;
a toiling life of waste;
on the edge, of non-existence.
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