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Morning Reflections. (Where is all the Beauty I fight for?)

 

I walk along the sea-shore, mingling

with the splash and tunes of the waves

listening to the windy anthem in the trees

and to the guest of the morning,

the cultivated man of science.

 

I could have lived with all my labours,

with my sins and my pains

If I knew that those should silently end with me

but so is not the thing

in this cultivated world of silence.

 

That quietness natural or unnatural

is marked on the forehead with trouble

like the youth has taken a deep root

and given up life so easily

now walking with their cultivated hands

covered with blood.

 

My confidence, my reserved sensibility

should be undertaken ,

for its state of health

but so unsure of the result

there is no favourable cure

in this cultivated world of miraculous interposition.

 

To see with my widely open eyes

and to listen to the smallest sigh

should have made me worthy

to walk on the golden pavements

and with content coping the cultivated

but dimmed world.

 

But no I am not worthy!

Told to be amazing, and yes I am amazing,

amazed that I still care about other people

while the men of God is killing each other

daily, cutting heads of women and children

in the name of this cultivated religion

calling it the Saintly works of Heaven.

 

April 2016 ©k.c.