The Agony of Existing
Pray,
If Existing requires it that we suffer,
That we gain not that which we seek,
That the lump on our heart keeps getting heavier,
Have you ever wondered
If it might be simply because
The Power who created us
Might be suffering as well?
Maybe It suffers for reasons known to itself,
Maybe It be an artist who cannot find its meaning
In a vast and puzzling cosmos
Maybe It cannot find the purity that It seeks
From those life forms It has created
Maybe in Its heart, the melody of agony keeps playing
Submerging It in tears, being reflected as the billions
Of stars which we, with our human eyes, enjoy
On dark and lonely nights!
Maybe that's why,
It has delivered to us, books of holiness
Announcing thereby that those who shall love It
Genuinely shall be allowed grace and mercy
As to be given a better opportunity at Existing!
Why, I wish
I could decipher the meaning of this Power
If not,
At least have the means
To rewire my switches
As to make sure
I suffer no more
From the harshness given back to me
When I simply seek to love
With mystical willed intentions!
Pray,
The story of my life,
Would be one written with the blood
Dripping from my heart
Pricked and cut by the harshness of the pain
With which I suffer
As
If the Power that brought me forth
Itself suffers,
Then,
Harmonizing my pain with Its own
Would most probably be that which It seeks!
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