For all of this
Is dust
And none of this
Is just
For all I am
Is absent
And none of me
Is present
For all you are
Is reading
And none of you
Is needing
For all these words
Are rotten
And what they will become
Is forgotten
For all we are
Is fleeting
And none
Is time defeating
For all of this
Is nothing
And nothing
Is from nothing
- Author: sylviasearcher ( Offline)
- Published: September 3rd, 2019 01:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
Comments4
Well, they are fine words, Sylvia, meaning 'something'! I'm often on about us being 'dust' in some of my poems, I know.
I guess I was having a moment of pointlessness, I wonder if in your poems you mean we are of dust like the stars?
Well, I am thinking on the lines of God as our Creator, and us as His creatures - created beings. Though we tend to only call animals by the term 'creatures'. Human beings made originally from the dust of the earth.
I think that’s what scientists at too isn’t it?
Or the dust of everything?
Not sure what it is about this but it really appeals - great work Sylvia.
It’s probably all your despair at brexit? There is a certain pointlessness to this poem, much like there is a certain necessary pointlessness to politicians
good old Fritz Perls.. he knew a thing or two didn't he ... as of course do you sylviasearcher..... Neville enjoyed this very much.....
I think I know nothing about nothing? Probably maybe.
Thanks
In all we do, in all our vanity, every strain and effort to achieve, to give, to love, to lose.... shall account as of nothing.
The absolute sum of all parts?
What are our great great grandfathers/mothers to us?..... their deeds and achievements, loves and losses?.... yet life goes on.... and so shall it be for our great great grandchildren.... we shall account as nothing.... some unknown thing of the past.... that's is the continuum of life.
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