Tuesday, September 7, 2010

"Song for the Sick" a poem

Now that my body aches daily from my job in the warehouse, I have contemplated death and dying, suffering and despair. So I wrote a poem!




Song for the Sick


Men love life

Though all will die

So I love you,

Though you may leave.


Work, wealth, clothes, and home

Require daily effort

Work, wealth, clothes, and home

Are readily lost.


The body grows old

The body grows ill

The fair face of youth

Becomes masked in age

The innocent brow

Wrinkles in worry

The sharpest of eyes

Grows dull and squinted.


Those whom you trust

Sometimes betray you

Those whom you desire

Never give you enough


Write your heart out

Nobody will understand

Speak yourself hoarse

They will smile and look away.


Dream of new lovers

Hope for better jobs

Long for fresh friends

But don’t gain them!

Or they shall wilt like the rest

And then you can’t even dream.


Best friends grow distant

Favorite songs grow tedious

Those we love grow ill and die

As we ourselves will – in suffering.


Some pray to God for heaven

Some meditate alone for Nirvana

Some make peace with death and relax

This is not my wisdom.


I love you as something I don’t own

Kiss you as something I can’t hold

Adore you as something I can’t keep.


I commit myself to inconstance

And trust in uneven things


But true wisdom,

Is to love what I am, for I am always that

To enjoy what I do, for doing is life.

To treasure my centermost

And love best what is nearest and ever in me.

Creative flow is my life.


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