Our Help In Ages Past Poem by Gary Witt
Our Help In Ages Past
What small desires I have.
How miniscule, how puny they are;
So simple, when taken separately,
Yet they gather, great in number,
Multiplied hourly in a chaotic, mumbling
Fugue of a million themes—
And I but one in a choir—
Until I cry out
O God, how great your power,
To be able steadfastly to ignore
Such cacophony.
Gary, what a clever way of dealing with the age old 'problem of evil' the power of a god vs his goodness all calling into question his existence at all...only problem I see with it is the greatest need of man aside from breathing of course is to be able to complain, an opportunity which seems to be provided in abundance for everyone? I just can't help wondering how loud the cry would be if that were taken away. It is a great poem. Thought provoking.
Excellent Gary...the musical imagery is employed to a resounding effect in this clever musing. Your poems have the effect of staying with this particular reader long after they have left the page...justine.
Yeeee-eeek and yay-ay! ! ! ! Biting stuff G... succinct, memorable and rather evilly WITTy. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 12:02:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Gary, I enjoyed this very much, to be free from our desires what else can we ask for? And how difficult it can seem.