WHERE IS HE?
The frailty of humans is something that never ceases to amaze me. As humans, we are sometimes so busy or blinded by ambition; we do whatever it takes to get to the peak of our careers. Other times we just live as if we are immortal and death is only an old wives' tale.
One minute, man is alive; the next, he lies six feet beneath the earth buried without all the gold and fame he worked so hard to acquire during his lifetime. Let's remember we are only on earth for a while. Let's live right to leave a lasting impact behind when we are gone physically from this world.
WHERE IS HE?
Where is he who was born of a woman
Whose infant cry we heard so loud days ago?
Like a flower,
He blossomed
And at a set time,
He withered away
Without any trace of existence.
Now I ask,
“Where is he?”
Where is he who rises at dawn
And is drunk with wine?
It is he whose lips are filled
With the babblings of a fool.
It is he who lives as if immortality
Runs in his veins
But Where is he?
Where is he who labours night and day
Yet without much to show for it?
His tears washed by the rain,
The brightness of his smile
Overshadowed by sunshine.
Man, whose days are filled with many troubles,
Is nothing to be compared
With that which sprouts
From the earth he tramples on
For when it dies,
The scent of water is enough to revive it!
Oh great man that he is!
Who shall awaken him
From his deep eternal slumber?
For when he sleeps, he wastes away
Six feet beneath that which is planted
And all any can ask is
“Where is he?”
Nikoslexie 2009
One minute, man is alive; the next, he lies six feet beneath the earth buried without all the gold and fame he worked so hard to acquire during his lifetime. Let's remember we are only on earth for a while. Let's live right to leave a lasting impact behind when we are gone physically from this world.
WHERE IS HE?
Where is he who was born of a woman
Whose infant cry we heard so loud days ago?
Like a flower,
He blossomed
And at a set time,
He withered away
Without any trace of existence.
Now I ask,
“Where is he?”
Where is he who rises at dawn
And is drunk with wine?
It is he whose lips are filled
With the babblings of a fool.
It is he who lives as if immortality
Runs in his veins
But Where is he?
Where is he who labours night and day
Yet without much to show for it?
His tears washed by the rain,
The brightness of his smile
Overshadowed by sunshine.
Man, whose days are filled with many troubles,
Is nothing to be compared
With that which sprouts
From the earth he tramples on
For when it dies,
The scent of water is enough to revive it!
Oh great man that he is!
Who shall awaken him
From his deep eternal slumber?
For when he sleeps, he wastes away
Six feet beneath that which is planted
And all any can ask is
“Where is he?”
Nikoslexie 2009
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