By Tony DeLorger © 2015
A single flame is what we are,
alone in the darkness of a vast and accommodating will,
and we, drenched in the sweat of our conscious concerns,
feel alone within the eloquent arms of eternity.
In what manner of state do we expect to live,
within this shell of reason and limits of ineptitude,
seeing so little of what exists, beyond us, the self,
the focus of our being.
We are shadows, reflections of life, mirrored,
from an omniscient mind, a mere speck of a billion thoughts,
and yet we fester in the arrogance of a God,
when we are but a glimmer of potential, yet realized.
This single flame can become a light, of hope, of good,
but for all our potential we remain animals, killing, squandering,
and the animals and life we so look down upon,
live in perfect harmony, by the grace of providence.
So many ironies in a world of reason,
clutching truths like casino chips,
and we, lost within our petty concerns of superficiality,
forge paths to technology, that in the end may be our undoing.
Sad little being, we humans,
so much right with so much wrong, and we immovable,
devout in our striving for self, for recognition, for ego,
when all life wanted was to share.
A single flame is what we are,
alone in the darkness of a vast and accommodating will,
and we, drenched in the sweat of our conscious concerns,
feel alone within the eloquent arms of eternity.
In what manner of state do we expect to live,
within this shell of reason and limits of ineptitude,
seeing so little of what exists, beyond us, the self,
the focus of our being.
We are shadows, reflections of life, mirrored,
from an omniscient mind, a mere speck of a billion thoughts,
and yet we fester in the arrogance of a God,
when we are but a glimmer of potential, yet realized.
This single flame can become a light, of hope, of good,
but for all our potential we remain animals, killing, squandering,
and the animals and life we so look down upon,
live in perfect harmony, by the grace of providence.
So many ironies in a world of reason,
clutching truths like casino chips,
and we, lost within our petty concerns of superficiality,
forge paths to technology, that in the end may be our undoing.
Sad little being, we humans,
so much right with so much wrong, and we immovable,
devout in our striving for self, for recognition, for ego,
when all life wanted was to share.
RSS Feed
