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Wrapped gift of goodness
by David Barger
2010-06-09 07:51:54 |
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Where has the goodness hidden
Beneath the feet of humankind
For men betray their own design
Where wealth transfigures posture,
And causes the face to split two fold,
And women want in likeness
The power that dangles at hindsight
Insomuch seduce the weakness
Of any sex for we all have knees
That buckle when curves hue out the eyes?
The taste of sin flows in our veins
From the devil called serpent disguised
As a tree of human statute and again
Those curves linked Eve to wax Adam,
And the notion of just an idea was enough;
Then the chain was formed in blood,
And the single transgression befell us all!
What say you when asked in speech
To dissolve within the thread of thought?
What can be written of any person,
Or which tongue caused your course to run?
I do believe in God,
But of humankind my faith is dissolved
Whittled down to the mush of dirt
From where our bones return at last breath.
Bitter tears are formed turning the skies
Into buckets of laminated rust.
In reckoning what is left to trust?
Calm down with slow pause of air,
And keep reassurance knowing this
Insomuch as the body of all beings hold
This single truth and in this solitude I cleanse
My doubts three times the power of three,
And conclude that within each person
That ever lives are the opportunity
Where the knowledge of both good and evil reside.
The evil of this human race is evident daily,
But where is the string that unties the good,
And seeming the balance in seen in the lowly,
And the minds are barbed and entangled
By the powers held high in palaces,
And temples and other shrines of white
Embodied in coats of gold and coined money?
Maybe goodness hides within our memories
Where once upon a time seems far better
Than staring headstrong at the present.
The god of ice circles within bounds
Of realm between earth and space laughing boldly
Convincing the smallest lie seen widely
That global warming is the end,
And many claim this warped tongue
Hoping not to drown in just another lie;
For I in myself notice the land is still dry,
And the clouds drip continually of snow in winter.
If only today were opened as the present,
And goodness was the only gift inside.
My hope is not dead as I do believe in God.
Ovi+poetry Ovi |
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