The Love Poem by Palitha Ranatunge

Looking at him I remember the past
The past of a life, a kind of irony of life
The content of life is made of
Whatever give and take in these
Events that are periodically occurring,

It is true that history of a man's life
Repeats at every decade or quarter
But one can not enjoy its fruits
For his body has been decaying
And does not feel the same sweetness
Or bitterness when time passes by
From the day of his formation, and
Commences counting his days of living
Then grows the passiveness of thinking
And finding contentment in life,

At one stage he cries for true love
The other he despises, even the source
Of it, in other stages he cries for power
Then he despises its torment for not
Letting him get out,

At one stage he tries to escape
From where he believes he has stagnated
The other day he finds it's all the same
Nothing is immune from final desperation
Of a thinking but not an analytical man,

At one stage he hates fellow humans
The other he loves deeply
All mankind in the world, the love
For humanity is the beginning of a new
Era of one's thinking,

Without such love for mankind
Any form of creativeness cannot be
Expected, he can be creative of even in
Killing by inventing different kinds of
Killing machines, may be to kill at least
Aliens! Or viruses such as HIV, Ebola etc.,

He can be creative in arts, science, or
Politics, but at all times he has to be
Truly in love with mankind
It is foundation of the future of our race,

But strongly not the love for a self
Salvation offering at a temple, a church,
A mosque or a Kovil wherever it sells.
If he buys it that invites impliedly him to
Live the rest of his life in a zombie land
A land of living dead, hoping for an
Unknown destination fabricated in a
Sweet fairy tale just like in the tale
Of the Wizard of Oz.