Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Temple, Stone, God, Self

Stone temples emotionless
Cold even in summer heat
Every moment of life
Is spent in a dance
With death
And eternity
Without a chance
Of perceiving
We are temples to God
The earth is our mother
Made of stone, and clay
And water
How does our impermanent state
Reveal the depths
Of the uncertainty
What is life
What is purpose
There is no point in why
There is only this
We must make our way
Create our purpose
And carve our path
Or pass from this existence
Without reason

"Don't let them tell us stories. Don't let them say of the man sentenced to death "He is going to pay his debt to society," but: "They are going to cut off his head." It looks like nothing. But it does make a little difference. And then there are people who prefer to look their fate in the eye."

Albert Camus