When did it happen I don’t remember!
A fragile voice from my depths inner
was whispering again and again while
pursuing my passions and desires dear:
“Life is larger than the religions all,
and philosophies, sciences, and arts all;
they are no more than means and machines
to take refuge, and for self-gratification;
“more elaborate they get farther you are,
lost in the labyrinth, away you wander
from Life, holding an empty pot of creation
you create the Creator in your own image.
“A saint or a sinner, a prince or a pauper,
whatever you’re, life does never anyone spare.
Life is most unscrupulous, utterly ruthless.
Life – not a four-letter word – owns you.’
* * *
Poetry comes as a refuge from writing scholarly and authoritative volumes of discourses that veer away from the basic context: Life itself.
* * *
Remigius de Souza
© Remigius de Souza, all rights reserved.