To believe is to live.
The strength of mind to persever,
Despite odds stacked against,
Makes for hard graft.
And faith? Faith begins it.
This, the unflowery, dutiful language
That keeps honour bright beyond fashion,
Is the awful idea:
Strength and determination
Provide a legacy for the soul.
Upon such a moveless mountain may come
All the anger in mankind
Until it breaks and is laid in ruins
Beneath its solid feet.
But what happens to a man
When his mind burns wildly
With private designs to undo a point, principle, or future?
When prescribed politic consumes in violent, vitriolic desperation
And takes as aspiration alone
The prowess of a shit-slinger?
Then kindness lives not with beauty
Eyes are blinded without love
And the life thereafter
A fruitless, treeless wasteland, is more attractive.
Must we go there? Without scruples? Must we?
Comments