I don’t usually include YouTube videos within my work. However this poem was inspired by the following image set as the backdrop to this video. So hit play and read on as you listen.
With stifled cries and bloodied hands
the beast at last fell to the sand.
Tortured by a dozen spears
thrust into him at the cheers
and cries of glee by those around
who clapped their hands hearing the sound
of agony from his soul stripped
as life escaped through twisted lips.
His visage of a demon true
caused the fear and spelled his doom
and cast to the arena he
was crushed without a way to flee
his life spread out upon the sand
at the hands of vicious men.
Until a maiden’s form appeared
while calming all she moved so near
and knelt she touched the dying head
as tears fell through her trembling hands
while eyes of anguished love gazed down
upon the beast splaying the ground.
“Shalara kae, shalara nhee.*
Peace I ask be upon thee.”
And as the wounded’s breathing slowed
and dying eyes at last were closed
the maiden standing turned her gaze
upon the crowd who now amazed
reflected on the deed they’d done…
In murdering a mother’s son.
*One day I may explain this language… – E.L
As any intellectual individual who has have ever pondered the meaning of life will tell you there are times when it all seems meaningless. Even the wisest intellectual to ever live- Solomon the King of Israel (yes that Solomom) spent years of his life attempting to derive meaning from his existence. Finding that it is “Vanity of vanities. All is vanity.” Ecc. (1:2) And a “striving after the wind” Ecc. (1:14) Now I don’t claim to be as wise as Solomon, a ludicrous idea, however upon my own reflective reasoning I find myself in an equally morbid state of mind as that to which I logically attribute to the former scholar. That state of mind being one that causes me to look around at everything I see and wonder… Why? Why bother with it all? I get up, go to work, go to school, go to sleep, and do it all over again. I find trivial amusements to occupy the minutia of freetime that remains to me after cramming every possible second of existence with activities to distract my attention from the eternal mundanity that is life. But in moments such as this where I find myself in a philosophical and contemplative sort of mind I can’t help but question the reasons. If that is all there is to it. If all there is to existence is simply existence what is the point of existing? Why do we frown upon suicide, and denounce hatred and murders? Why don’t we just fold our hands and cry over the horrible position we find ourselves in? Where to live is life for the sake of life and to die is nothing more or less than simply dying? Why should anyone care about anything if there is no meaning to anything anyway
As these thoughts ebb through the recesses of my consciousness I hope my jotting them down will strike a chord in your own mind and get you to ponder as well. I won’t attempt to persuade you of where I fall in this for I believe we are discussing matters if truth. And truth cares not for persuasion but stands upon its own and absolute. It is noteworthy however to observe the fact that I still continue to write this proves that I believe there to be meaning in what I write. But if there is meaning in something as trivial as this blog post then isn’t it safe to say that there is meaning in life? If so what is that meaning?
Think deeply friends for our existence dwells here and eternity hangs in the balance.
It happened without fanfare
No music drifted through the air
I realized without remark
Close on the heels of a weary heart
With bitterness fading away
I thought that I would be okay
Until what moved and took its place
Was the result of battles waged
Which till this moment I had won
Or at the least had held my own
But without crying, without tears
Without love, or borrowed fears
The one who always stood so strong
At last fell before the throng.
And final cognizant reflections
Realize climactic sentences
Do not preceded the paeons cry
But merely follow his sad life
And I that troubled paeon be
For life at last has broken me.
These walls all around me
Are the walls that I built
Demons that surround me
Are phantoms of guilt
This life that I hide from
Is my life on full tilt
Rushing to daggers
Plunging up to the hilt
This desert a wasteland
No honey nor milk
This wasteland’s my thoughts
all from the same ilk
For none of my walls
(These walls that I’ve built)
Will crumble or fall
-For phantoms of guilt
Simply change their colors
Their form never wilts
And as I grow older
I’m buried in guilt.
Remember when the darkness comes
And I’m no longer there
That you were one who withheld hope
When I was in despair
I wish not equivocity
But rather love is shared
Alas though we’ll not strive again
We’re cursed within this glare.
A fabled mystic long ago
Once spoke a solemn prayer
But quickly you’ve forgot it
And settled for pious heirs
Clinging to vestiges of hopes
So laden down with fears
You’ve lost the heart and mind to fight
As poisoned by the air.
So breath it in and breath it out
Pretend you’re unaware
Of who it was offered no hope
When I was in despair.
Lightning and thunder held back by the clouds
freezing rain crashing like shots to the ground
A fire rages as humanity’s found
Their future is fleeing quicker than the sound.
Pressed into crevices none could sustain
life is examined for fruit without aim
tortured and wasted their livelihood maimed
by trials of science whose virtue’s unstained.
But out in the wild a figure whose name
goes without saying exists all the same.
Living in solitude shielding the flame
that has for ages been guarding the way.
Except that way’s saved for all but the proud
and those who are humbled, hands tied to the plow
stumble upon it then gratefully bow
before being lifted and granted a crown.
Questions of wonder compel men to explore
the nature of marvels exist in the world
but soon minute details boasting open doors
obscuring answers crush hearts to the floor.
Then lightning and thunder held back by the clouds
break from their shackles and shatter the ground.
The soul of the mortal shutters at the sound
as the weight of existence at last crashes down.
I once had a song that I loved to sing
I once had a story that was compelling
I used to amuse myself with my rhymes
But the laughter is gone from my rhythmic lines
I once dreamed up futures of glorious deeds
I once held true love in the highest esteem
Before I am gone I’ll look back on my deeds
And wonder if any will ever miss me
More likely than not I will just fade away
Forgotten as soon as I’m laid in the grave.