Life's complexities still boggle the brain,
Disdain for the why's has reached a fever pitch,
I am bombarded by endless thoughts and pains,
Unhinged and weary, wading through a purpose trench:
Who is, who was, what if, will I?, forever in a swirl,
For God, For Country - For War, For Peace,
Who will, who did prevail?
Prometheus tickled at my fury's call,
Quenched not the madness in my mind,
The ending served only to anger me further,
Asking more and more of why.
Wonder I do of God, and whether he can hear,
Whether he is all or none: a brute, a tyrant, a lover -
of fear, of truth, of lies, of kindness, of hate,
For I have prayed and heard no voice. Only that,
which I can hear inside, this head of mine that hurts.
Wonder I do of the time that I have spent giving,
Of all that I have not received, and what will come of this,
All my efforts to understand this life,
Of the deaths of those I miss-
Still no man has seen the other side, or if at all it does exist,
Of flesh and bone, we do return to dust,
And all our troubles cease in a moment swift.
So I guess I have no choice in the matter,
But to live fully with my lover and the seeds we bear,
I should stand tall in ignoring all their chatter,
And perhaps in this life I'll see it clear,
That Cormac McCarthy was right-
We live once, so listen not of man,
Listen of heart and mind and soul and voice,
The silent speaker that only I can hear:
In the morn, the noon, the eve, the night,
Deep in space, underwater, in each season's flight,
Carry no burden, live free, do not dream of flight,
But live it, and do not dream of life.