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John W

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Member Since: Jun, 2010

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As we know it
by John W
Monday, July 12, 2010
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Recent poems by John W
•  Lessons
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The view from the end of the bar.

He sits alone at the end of the bar with his muse imprisoned in glass,

Letting the world entertain him with its hopes and dreams.

The actors stage mock melodramas of murder and suicide,

Birth, death, joy, fear – mere stages in the game, flowing from one to the next.

 

He watches the faces of the players, as they act out the emotion of the day.

Grief at the passing of a loved one.

Joy at the birth of a child.

Outrage at the brutal abuse suffered by those too weak to defend themselves.

 

He smiles. He knows better. None of this is real.

There is no death. There is no pain. Merely energy transformed.

Games played by eternal beings for their own amusement,

Just brief flickers across the canvas of the universe.

 

He orders another drink and shakes his head.

If only they would awaken to their true spiritual natures,

The suffering that could be avoided….

 

Around him, life goes on.

 

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