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Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Faith . . .

Faith . . .

the Cock crew
the Crow caws
Soul falls
Man Calls

while housed in this vessel
we wrestle with self
grabbing for strings
to hold on to things
to secure bodies
but bodies does not
that which has not
a home here

the Sun rises
we criticize
our eyes
still see that glint of wonder

light filters through
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
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
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

Faith . . .

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

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