Man’s Tale

Life is anything but sadness;
Where is the portal to enter the pantheon of love,
Divinest and as sublimest as heaven above,
Where we shall create delighting fun and face?

Our conditioning clouds us to be elementals
(heaven-born, heaven-destined souls
Humans),
Divested of ego, avarice, greed and hate,
To sorrow and but stir our hearts to this date.

The uncanny, brutal fist of time;
We are drowned into sweet sorrow
To create but a chorus as spirited chime
To live behind traces for morrow.

We inspirit somehow under the bluish dark azure
Crowded as arboretum, defeated, subdued,
Stranded and lost for sure,
As the mortals to know the absolute.

We head into the blues of unknown distance.
Shrouded our life, darkened, blackened;
Unknown our heading, we somehow tread lanes
Of untoward fate; we steer clear life’s purpose and shun
Into thickening sadness our lives; unbeknownst is the world,
God’s children headed strolling as wanderers
Of moonlight tide.

We are mere goers and voyagers
Mere earthly burdens
For we grasp not the final fate of a man.

Copyright: Welkin Siskin