Life Of Man Poem by alexander opicho

Brief and pitifully powerless is Man's life;
on him and all his folks' race the slow,
sure doomsday falls pitiless and hellish dark
Blind to good and tops turvydom of evil,
reckless of inferno in the life's destruction,
omnipotent matter rolls on its imperious way;
for Man condemned to-day to lose his dearest,
to-morrow is starkly beyond himself
only to pass through the gate of darkness,
for thus it remains only to cherish all,
ere yet the deadly blow falls centre-head,
the lofty thoughts that ennoble his whimsical day;
disdaining the cowardly terrors of the slave of Fate,
to worship desperately at the shrine
that his own hands have humanly built;
undismayed by the empire of brutality of chance,
to preserve a mind free from the wanton tyranny
that rules his outward life garlanded by ego;
proudly defiant of the non-combatable forces that tolerate,
for a moment his knowingness and his condemnation,
to sustain alone a weary but unyielding shrugged Atlas,
the world that his own stupid genius have fashioned
despite the conquering recconnoitre of unconscious power.