Sometimes…
the art of existence seems to be
centred around a necessity to reside
in a village full of idiots where
personalities are doomed to collide.
True inspiration will escape us
and all creativity ally
with contrails dissipating
in the cold morning sky.
Indian summer brings its lukewarm light,
hardly adequate to adorn the canvas of life,
barely enough warmth to ignite
those fires of reason
that we seek to justify our being.
To be all-knowing,
all-loving, all-seeing…
compassion and forgiveness
are requisite, too,
qualities that I lack in abundance,
What about you?
How can we repay the faith of Jesus?
‘ye are gods’ is how he sees us …
and yet we,
the apples of gods’ eye,
have fallen a long way
from the tree of life
and the source of knowledge,
wherein lies true wisdom,
with the sword made ploughshare
and the confiscated knife
