Faith . . .

Faith . . .

the Cock crew

the Crow caws

Soul falls

Man Calls

out

while housed in this vessel

we wrestle with self

grabbing for strings

to hold on to things

to secure bodies

but bodies does not

secure

that which has not

a home here

the Sun rises

we criticize

our eyes

still see that glint of wonder

light filters through

transmutes

what’s within you

and we pull the curtain shut

for we are not ready

are we ?

and the Cock still

does what he does

all through the night now

and the quandary still prevails

what ails man

that he can not find peace

will the search ever cease

for that which is everlasting

we fast

we pray

we give

we say

help me

in many languages

a mixture of joy

of hope

of anguish

souls being tried

vying

lying

crying

dying

where do they go ?

we sow seeds

perform good deeds

trying to balance a “Karma”

Ma never told me about that

the fruit of the spoils

of the sacrifice

escapes my reason

for its sweetness

is but a season

of finite pleasing

and the Gods are teasing us

yet they tell us to trust

all about me

is suffering

and you say

it is perspective.

and that soul in me

laughs

in a most sarcastic voice

and you speak to me

of the choice

of free will

the shrill and the jester

scream and dance

i hear the dichotomous symphony

of life revisited again

reminding me

of the perils of a man

who is filled with questions

self becomes the enemy

the friend

all housed in that vessel

where the eternal like wrestling match

has no time outs

except when i

deliberately delude myself

or seclude my self

in the darkness

which runs and hides from me

offering me not any lasting solace

and still those damn birds

i hear them every dawn

and all day long

reminding me

of what we mourn for

the answering of the prayer for

a better life

where there is a peace

without cease

and still yet

the Cock crew

the Crow caws

Soul falls

Man Calls

out

Faith . . .

(c) 19 January 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.