Over the Centuries
By John Herlihy

Over the centuries, humans never grew old;
Faces may change, the stories the same told.
Some people wish to be potentates and kings,
Farmers, blacksmiths, or fighters in the ring.
Others are content to merely be what they are,
Scholar, lawyer, simpleton, or even a fallen star.

Over the centuries, a human heart varies in hue,
Whether black or white, why sometimes even blue.
The heart so big, multiple emotions to withstand;
Some emotions inspire deeds requiring reprimand.
Whether centuries or millennia, time will always tell;
History is full of immensities that often toll as a bell.

There is a certain nobleness in feeling the pain of others.
What about the heart whose behavior only smothers?
There is a certain dignity in suffering one’s own pain;
The pain will pass but what endures will be the gain.
Some impulses are as dead as those who commit them;
The lessons never learned if anyone tries to outwit them.

Love and lust human foils that often go hand in hand;
Pride and insult in counterbalance full of reprimand.
Hatred and revenge step brothers who see eye to eye;
Regret and loss but sightless eyes trying to see on the sly.
Human foibles are as bead necklaces around our necks;
Tightening the noose as our destiny becomes more complex.

Over the centuries, people question the reality of the soul,
As if without the soul we could be anything but less whole.
Imagine a presence not in any way distinctive or unique;
No inner light that draws upon an otherworldly mystique.
What is a candle without the flame and its inner glow?
What would we have to offer without the soul’s overflow?

Over the centuries, time continues to run its course;
The years pass by relentlessly and without remorse.
We have one brief moment our unique story to tell;
Whether for good or evil, death will sound its knell.
Thereafter, in later years, no one will be left who knew;
The centuries pass as they must do, and everyone slew.