This is a fairly heavy poem in terms of content. First, I would like to say that I drew my inspiration for this from reading Ecclesiastes. I have written a series of poems that are dedicated to the feeling and flow of this book. I will post new material every now and then, but just to reassure you, they are not all as dark as this one. The overall theme is one that goes from despair to hope. This just happens to be one of the works at the beginning. The overall work is not completed yet so this is how I will post them.
Eccles Lamentations: the weary
Oh I lift my weary hand again
For what, why, who?
For me
For this
For this time
For this last time?
Will my breath last longer
Than the beating of my heart?
Oh I lift my weary eyes for answers
But the static and the silence
Of the world drowns
My dreams
My thoughts
My wisdom…
What are all these worth,
That I would sell them for a penny
To guarantee tomorrow
that I would not drown with them,
In the desperation of the world.
My dreams are not my own
My thoughts are recycled flashes
My wisdom the least of all!
For there is nothing new, under the sun.
Only the wrinkles and the worry
Which imprint themselves
On my brow
and tell the truth regarding
My soul…
…even this strand of thought
has been thought before,
I have waited in the line
With countless, faceless others.
Dreading the echo of all our steps.
Who will remember me?
And will those who have forgotten me
Be forgotten in time as well?
It is true the wind blows
It is true that rain falls
It is true that streams flow
To a larger waters’ call.
And that the moon will follow the sun
But my weary name,
My pain
My weary hands and eyes
Will carry on no further
Than the weary world allows
For my burdens are a heavy load
And not even the earth desires
To lift them through the ages
For the scholars of tomorrow
To read them on wisdom’s pages.
For all things under the sun,
Have been done
And done again in times to come,
So why should I cry out
For my soul to be
Beyond it all?
When the truth of this world
Burdens the strongest man,
Tripping him,
and making him
too weak to even crawl.
Read more articles by wil Twynstra or search for articles on the same topic or others.
