The Humanist - Poem by Sophia White
It’s not in the sky, not in the earth.
There’s nothing in memory or tomorrow.
Look in dreams, search through sorrow,
Nothing in death, nothing in birth.
There’s no one waiting at the rainbow’s end,
No secret lover, no hidden friend.
Each to his own, and his own alone,
Each his road alone must wend.
Looking right, there’s emptiness.
Looking left, the world is bleak.
Alone, we’re shy, afraid, too weak
To stand in that nothingness.
But reaching out with a shaking hand
Into the barren, thirsty land
Lying low and stark, we grope the dark,
But hark – no heart to understand.
This life must be lived in solitude.
Our eyes are too nearsighted to see
Anyone else that could possibly be
Bleeding nearby, and we conclude
That we are alone. And we are right
For who would walk into such a night
And take our hand – help us stand
And understand our hopeless plight?
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