The World Breaks My Heart
a young man comes up behind
a father walking to work and
shoots him dead…
he becomes a hero to some
who seem to applaud the way
he threw away two lives…
I cannot understand how
murder can be glorified
but then I am old and know
how very little I truly know…
what we do to each other
we do to ourselves as all
the holy writings tell us
yet we keep thinking
God-Allah-Yahweh
is not watching and Karma
is not taking notes…
they told us, and told us:
Buddha, Jesus, the Prophet,
but war after war, hate
breeding hate, and love
flees into hiding...
and so we are careless
with our own souls as we
slight the other, ignore
those in pain, steal from
the old and deprive
the young of meaning
and hope and above all,
grace….
Progress
First, there was a rock,
small enough to fill a hand,
heavy enough to kill
with a single blow….
Then the rock was fastened
to a stick-- a club was born.
Next the rock was sharpened
then tied to a long stick, now
a spear to kill quicker….
Then man’s genius thought
of a bow to carry a small spear
arrow-like to the enemy….
In time a dark powder was used
with a force loud as thunder,
powerful as a lightning bolt…
The a giant leap was made in
humanity’s war on itself--
a force as small as the atom
pulverizing entire cities,
killing generations at once
in a blinding light, the light
of a man-made hell….
What is next? AI no doubt,
and we will make it as evil
as we can be, only far, far
more efficient….
Either….Or
Either we are just sentient animals,
the sole species to be afflicted with
a sense of mortality, a longing for
meaning, a wish to be more…
Or, we are already far more than
we know, beings with consciousness
beyond the parameters of any clock
or calendar, even beyond the grave….
Either we are just walking puzzles,
algorithms to be solved by shrinks,
controlled by politicos, subject to
greed and lust and anger and fear…
Or, we are already small lords of
the Universe and far, far beyond--
immortal beings just traveling
for a time in a mortal world...
Either the Universe itself is some
kind of fluke, coming from the
inexplicable as far smaller than
a teardrop, until it exploded…
Or, there is an Agent behind all
creation, from the Big Bang to
the spark the started your heart
and brings air into your lungs….
Either life is just one long joke, we
but sentient flukes of the Universe…
Or there is meaning in every thought,
in every feeling, in every act, and
we the purveyors of the Great Mystery
which wraps our souls in warmth,
in truth, but most of all, in love….
Your choice…
After/Thought Literary 