For those that don’t have it, it is a big deal
For those that do, it’s a piece of paper
Its viewed as the primary source for joy and thrills
And a significant lack of it brews disaster.
The current god of the modern age
Its roots anchored within the hearts of mortal men
Its minted leaves places man in a mental bondage
Yet we chase it to no end.
You cannot serve God and mammon
View it as a means and not a destination
Death is an inevitability we share in common
Pursue not after only ostentation.
Night falls comes and umbra is king
The canines howl and cicadas sing
We journey into the land of the surreal
Leaving our corporeal forms, quite and still.
Alas we arrive at the realm of the endless
Its landscape ever shifting and restless
One is free to craft his wish and story
For here you are the architect of all and sundry.
But hail the sultan of the soporific and lord of lethargy
His somnolent sands filled with latent energy
Hail Morpheus the god of sleep and dreams
Hail the Sandman from whom all our slumber streams.
For some its a theological schism
For others, a coping mechanism
There are those that stand by its conviction
There are those who maintain there is a contradiction.
A belief propagated by a virgin birth
A doctrine professing about life after death
A tool utilized in ensuring morality
A weapon that can be a source of calamity.
A principle for instilling orderly manners
Or a propaganda for installing mental fetters
The apprehensive remain blanketed in doubt
The accepting retain their faith, evermore taut.
Its a perpetual river flowing without ebb
Round and round it goes like the cycle of Kreb
Its contents washed away never to be undone
Carrying with it ripples of things to come.
Its the endless rotations of a celestial wheel
Events come and go which no one can conceal
Secrets buried and destinies foretold
No one can escape the grasp of its hold.
Its a titan controlling the epoch of the cosmos
Convicted and committed, no one can stop Cronos
The past a memory, situations we can’t suture
The present a gift, utilize and plan for the future.
Man is borne, bipedal and grounded
The fowls of the air, winged and airborne
Man tills the ground to be fed
The birds soar, feasting under the sun.
Man evolved, civilizations formed
He learnt to build, he learnt to destroy
Man strives as much to be a god
He forgets his beginnings as a boy.
Remember Icarus, dauntless but unwise
Went too close, never to fly again
Man should fill shoes his own size
Over-ambition is a mile away from been insane
Freedom, a feeling a caged bird craves
To abscond its plight, and engage in flight
Liberation, a desire wanted by a felon that prays
To see the light, and live without fright.
We all feel imprisoned on way or another
It could be in our mind, or in the things we find
We all search for escape from matters that bother
To kick back and unwind, and leave worries behind.
For are we free to our will or destined by kismet
To love or hate, to proceed or wait
Whatever the truth we must be ready and set
Whether it be by fate, or we get to dictate.
ONCE UPON A THYME
Once upon a time as I pondered on life’s teaching
I stumbled upon the vast naivete I had
Once upon a thyme as I wandered around the kitchen
I happen upon a variety of spice that made me glad.
There is a time for every season under the sun
A time to be born, a time to learn and a time to die
There is a thyme for every seasoning inside the pan
Some thyme to boil, some thyme to cook and some thyme to fry.
A stitch in time saves nine
So make haste before the sun is gone
A swiff of thyme creates brine
Hope you’ve enjoyed the poetic jargon