While winter sprinkles its browns, yellows, and ambers on barks, leaves and shades of human faces, and smoke pouring over roofs, smog over pavements, and while tired souls are hastily walking in agony, I have one question left to ask “what does it take to live a dignified life?”
Is it happiness, comfort and cosiness or is it desires? What does it take I wonder to become an eagle, lonesome, strong, content, solemn, focused to haunt on desires? How can that eagle die without rats and vultures noticing, leave this world in dignity, with nothing but that ancient song left behind and heard beyond the horizon over the Aegean Sea?
2 comments:
Ergun,
Thought-provoking post. I don’t know how to live life with dignity, but in my poetry, I have imagined a dignified death.
Kicking Horse
Saint Paul, 24 May 2005
I rest my pikestaff
Against a granite colossus
In defiance, a toast
I tip a metal flask of Jack
To the wilderness
Now reclined
On the cobbled banks
Of the Kicking Horse Reservoir
Sun morsels desert my pupils
I cook until dusk
In the mackinaw of nightfall
Conferences of carrion beetles
Prepare their nurseries
Opening my eye sockets
To some star-lit destiny
Thanks for the complement and by the way beautiful poem Bob (where do you keep you poems, are they on the web somewhere?). Indeed there is something in poetry that provokes thoughts. The best thing about it is you don't have to prove anything :)
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