This is an older poem. In the town nearest to where we had a cottage there were acouple of feed mills which amused the population by taking turns blowing up.
Corrugated iron clad tower on the river bank,
Calvin grey monument to industrious man,
Reproaching the idle sun and the idle lazy river,
Contented man of substance picking your teeth
After a free dinner: Town justifier, town builder,
“Herald of our future”; “Example of ‘honest’ industry”;
“Beacon of prosperity.” At ease by the river bank,
Smiled on by the idle sun:
What eruption in your guts has brought you down?
Smoking pile of corrugated iron, ashes, useless machinery:
Blown up by your own industry, your dust has unmade you.
The sun, that idle sun, shines on, undiminished;
While the lazy river carries your ashes towards the sea.
Our culture has taught us to believe in many ideas which aren't actually real. Exposing these illusions allows us to recover the power to live our lives according to our deepest desires.
Are you still angry at God for having lost a loved one due to sickness or unexpected circumstances? This book will give you a better understanding of death, God’s role in it, and what decision is before each of us that would allow us to see them agai
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Keep writing...wonderful
talent you have.
Excellent!