Do not speak of silver or of gold,
nor say the world is black and white
as you yourself were told.
For I have seen the colours of the day
and a myriad reasons to believe
the world was made this way:
Red like the roses in her hair.
Orange like the oranges
in the bowl, my lady fair.
Yellow like the sun up in the sky.
Green like the blanket
that covers us when we die.
Blue like the sparkle in her eyes,
a reflection of the glory
far beyond the purple skies.
So many dazzling colours,
wonders by the score.
And fears and horrors too,
enough to chill us to the core.
It's no wonder that our ancestors
invented beings to adore,
and dreamed of everlasting life.
It is our nature to want more.
I wrote this poem in the middle of the night,
then stood in the middle of an open field
and watched the lightning.
My wife and friends probably thought I was crazy,
being out in the middle of the night
in the middle of a storm.
But this was a poetic moment, the kind that I live for.
I did not want to waste it sleeping.
I do not worry about the lightning.
I will die when my time comes
and not one moment before.
I do not worry about God.
He either exists or He doesn't.
If He exists, He will either save me or not
according to His pleasure.
If He doesn't exist, then it doesn't matter.
Neither the fear of death nor the fear of God
are the beginning of wisdom.
Neither the denial of self nor the denial of desire
are the beginning of wisdom.
The appreciation of life
during the short time that we have it.
That's the beginning of wisdom.
Mark Sebring (2004)
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