Reflections on existence (repost from ages ago)

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Master
Senior Member

since 1999-08-18

Posts 1867
Boston, MA

0 posted 2002-08-06 02:13 PM

January fifteenth. I’m home-sick for Autumn.
I sit by the desk and out of boredom,
reflect on existence, on being immortal,
on God, which I’m lacking, and on God
which is present. The latter -- my own creation,
the former -- I have destructed. Imagination
has led me to have a long conversation
with the conscience that flows in my blood.

“Religion is the opium of the people!”
If that’s so, then how come the peep hole
is not wide enough for the needle
and by “needle” I mean a warm ray.
Not to say that I have a lot to offer,
but I welcomed the Holy Spirit often,
every day, I left all the windows opened,
no one came and now, some say

I’m deprived. I’ve heard many sermons,
many hymns and gospels. They make one certain
that Nietzsche’s right, that life’s a burden --
if there was God, he had abandoned
his great creation to spin in orbit.
He hid his trail and took the forfeit.
Such tales though make the morning morbid.
I don’t have faith because I stand on

my own two feet and that is quenching,
I despise afterlife and the idea of aging,
and what’s more I just hate changing
in order to be labeled by others as “right”.
If others jumped off a bridge, I wouldn’t follow.
I choose not to believe in death, it’s hollow
and not because “it’s too much to swallow,”
but because there’s nothing to bite.

I find my release in mere existence.
the alarm clock resounds to start up my pistons
and no matter how short or long a distance,
I travel gladly. What can I say? I love living
and that’s why the question that bothered Hamlet,
does not give me headaches. I happened
therefore I am. For breakfast, I love the omelet
and the lack of such pleasures leaves me grieving.

But overall, I can’t say that life treated me badly.
I’ve always been healthy, and happy, and madly
in love. My neighbors are friendly;
at least, they act so. Could life be better?!
I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth
and I’m thankful for that. I’ve done well without
any help from a God and that makes me proud.
I firmly believe that tomorrow, no matter

what may occur, I’ll wake up in my bed,
on the sixteenth of January and I will extend
my left arm to silence the clock on the stand.
I’ll eat breakfast and the day will follow exactly
the same old routine as the day before
it and the night will reflect the night that bore
it. Future reflects the past and therefore,
to me, immortality seems to be likely.

So, what’s the purpose, if life’s eternal? --
to make all external become internal
(and of course vice-versa), to keep a journal,
to search for beauty, to search for purpose,
to be! -- it’s all so simple. The rest will fall
into place, as it must in nature. Each soul
will find its object of worship. And after all,
the dust will settle and truth will surface,

and it’s all so simple...

Check out my poetry here:

http://www.unknownpoets.com/db/authors/master

[This message has been edited by Master (08-06-2002 05:18 PM).]

Savage Quiescence
Member

since 2002-07-29

Posts 326
Wandering

1 posted 2002-08-06 06:19 PM

*Sits back in awe* Oh how rare it is that a poem of this length will keep my attention as this one. Absolutly brilliant piece, I believe this is just the sort of read I needed to end a writer's block and for that I thank you, not only for the help but such a magnificant read.

~Sky

Master
Senior Member

since 1999-08-18

Posts 1867
Boston, MA

2 posted 2002-08-06 11:22 PM

Welcome :)

Check out my poetry here:

http://www.unknownpoets.com/db/authors/master

Kandi
Member

since 2000-06-14

Posts 354
North of Hell

3 posted 2002-08-07 12:56 PM

I don't think I've ever read a poem that gave me goosebumps...but you succeeded in being the first...the whole thing was beautifully written with an amazing flow, and the ending was simply perfect. and not only was this written extremely well, but I really respect your thoughts and frustrations on the topic in general. You express yourself impecably!
In awe,
Kay

The day you were born, you were born free
That is your privilege.

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