|
| |
Voices
What’s the reason to die, the wise know
In a thousand voices they confide to me
Their valued opinions, but I’m too slow
To capture the truth they can clearly see
One dies, two are born, and it doesn't matter
Who will they become, one may do
The same thing, another may do something better
Until the third comes to change the whole view
But these abstractions seem too grand for me
A new meaning cannot replace the old
I belong to my own, smaller reality
Where her paradise garden my love has grown
There I stay, listening closely to you
To the voice that I know so innately close
Realizing that death isn’t eternal, it too
Comes and goes, in the mess of its time resource
But aren’t we doing the same again?
Reiterating ourselves, we’re expelled
After the rest we are back somewhen
Hearing the voices we know so well.
Copyright ©
Gregory Colodub
|
|