When there's no more words to speak
I'll show you that I care
When there's no more thoughts to think
I'll drink in silence, shun the air
Intoxicated by this world that I must share
With the pushers and pullers
Fickle feeble-minded users
Bruised and careless abusers
Which Leave me somehow feeling infected by all this
So I direct my intentions to inject myself
With patience which leads to tolerance
So I can deal with all these patients
Here I sit, amused and confused
Saddened and reduced by humanity
As they set this world ablaze
And burn the ashes when their through
I've watched this world long enough to see
There's something in the silence
Sight without vision, deaf and conditioned
Wisdoms lost its voice screaming
That what will be has been before
What could be will be ignored
History is tired of repeating itself
So redundancy pushes the snooze
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
These strike as the thoughts of a philosophically-inclined person like yourself (I include myself in this category) mulls over not because of a specific stimulus but rather because his thoughts over time have created an awareness in him of our perilous social situation. His sleep is disturbed not because of an immediate danger or crisis but because his natural train of thought will not stop and rest. The good news is that there is no panic in evidence. And he sees patience as a way of dealing with a world where many people are the walking wounded, too damaged to rescue the world but too inept to damage it further. The world out there is not so much perilous as lonely. He has brought a train of thought to a natural conclusion. Rather than obsessing more, he should seek the consolation of sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, balm of hurt minds, nature's second course.... MACBETH