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.