Convoluted Enigma Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Inspired by Sidoreta Risto

Perfections door is now closed,
sealed against its anima;
humanity's shadow prostrate,
forfeiting to heaven's rima;
in hands, the cup of living,
filled with viscous contima;
thirsting lips seek quaff,
ignorant, of swallow's ultima.

Life fades this firm judging,
perverse it's hungers state;
within all, azoic germs amass,
disjoined of future's estate;
sublimation of human's politics,
no longer living's slate;
as lemming to a cliff,
we, set self-consciousness berate.

Sullen rainbows deny minds,
held bound by current trends;
colourless moralities,
badge spurned, is thought's contend;
life's spectrum splayed,
word's hue, proves ache 's portend;
pedigree of us in reel,
master angler, sets line to yend.

To mountain peak we follow,
each seek life's last reveal;
humility whets communally,
each conscious pleads appeal;
humaneness sops mercy's tear,
wails rise at scene irreal;
beyond all an answer clear,
fate cast, by being sidereal.

One set of eyes sees heaven,
so luculent is vision clear;
souls, burn brilliance rare,
the view, is stunningly sheer;
our species Homo sapiens,
home, on this diminutive sphere;
have a chance to right our wrongs,
or else we disappear.