Thus I Wrote

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The King

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Unassailable in his tower
Of financial and political power
He will still die
Just like you and I
Slowly or quickly
He will become sickly
He has not the pace
To win this race

He rages and works
Against the future that lurks
Against the decay
Coming closer every day
He wants some meaning
Why is death intervening?
But he’s a small pawn
To a life that goes on
He held a baton a while
While he ran his mile

We are born and we die
Against our will, so we try
To exert some control
To create a role
In the end there’s no doubt
There’s no easy way out
Before we leave we check in
Every last thing
We fall into the unknown
As we were born….alone

Written by thus.i.wrote

July 5, 2013 at 5:52 am

Posted in Poems, Prose

Tagged with , , ,

The Struggle


Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

This poem was a favourite of Nelson Mandela who struggled and conquered much more than you or I but our struggles are personal and real to us and no less difficult in that regard.

I see that we struggle to be part of the great flywheel of existence but sometimes are spun off and struggle to get back on again.

But I see that struggle is part of the human condition and part of the essence of being alive. Such a particular struggle is the downside of freewill, democracy, growth and change.
And we would not willingly give those up so we must  accept the downsides also.

Our struggle is for a limited time.  We take the baton run for a short time and pass it on in the great race of life.

Our relatively short lives seem to make no sense except to contribute to the development of the human race in its growth in consciousness to some unknown end. The human race has some sense of a journey that is going somewhere.

On an individual level there appears to be not much good about growing old and dying (perhaps on a species level one can see the rationale of growth and renewal). Perhaps the awareness of limited time gives us humility, a feeling of shared experience and an added focus and impetus to do things.

At the end of our struggle is old age and death. Death is a scary thought and one we all face in private. Its so big that we often avoid it . In fact our society seems to make a thing of avoiding it.

There are many models that try to make sense of our existence and what drives us, none of them that are satisfactory to me as in the end there are more questions for me  than answers.

I am reminded of the wonderful film – Blade Runner.
Tyrell (who made Batty) says to Batty(A humanoid robot, who has a very limited time to live):

“Revel in your time”.

It seems apt.

While we are here I feel we must strive to be the best we can be and to do the best we can do.

Written by thus.i.wrote

November 7, 2012 at 12:23 pm

Posted in Poems, Poetry, Prose

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