What we see is partly who we are
In winter snow we see the beauty white.
To homeless people ,it may bring despair
At night the cold and frosty air will bite.
Flowers of startling beauty are now here
Yet even these will make some people ill.
A scent which an asthmatic man may fear
Is most desired as perfume by the well
The adverts which may irritate the rich
May start up envy’s poison in the poor.
Good and evil to our wealth are stitched
All is context, virtue is not ours.
The world I see’s constructed by my mind
And to the worlds of others we are blind
P O E M # 1
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Title : Life's Complexity
Author : William Mae
The body shall lose its seely grip,
And the soul and spirit leave,
Fly past nature's natural bonds,
While the urn lies down in sleep,
Leaving the body they bid farewell,
And from its presence slips,
They mourn the days that use to be,
But still they make their trip.
What awaits we only guess,
And the body begins decay,
The spirit and soul rise to live,
They do not pass away.
Life is taken for granted,
With endless days it seems,
Memories now and aching hearts,
No visions now or dreams.
The wind of change left it's mark,
Nothing to dispute,
What's written now is written,
When death spells out it's truth.
The hour glass drips no more sand,
Just silence fills the void,
The song of life is quieted,
No more strumming on its chord.
The foolish thought would think like this,
The person can't return,
But harder to birth a person once,
Then twice to birth the urn.
The question isn't will they live,
The answers clear they do,
The question left is tell me when,
They will be born anew.
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