“Then I looked on all my works that mine hands had wrought, and on the travail that I had labored to do: and behold, all is vanity and vexation of the spirit: and there is no profit under the sun.” --The Book of Ecclesiastes, 2:11
The will to make things remain as they are
Is a fat tyrant who brooks no dissent
The fight to make things stay goes very far
And when they change, the air's by wailing rent
But pause, and think about our pain itself:
Which aspect of it are we thankful for?
Indeed, it is when one says to oneself:
This will end, or I will, and feel no more
Only in fables is pain eternal
Reality makes it temporary
In domains fictional and infernal
Of respite, not a one enjoys any
Pain fades, as must everything that exists
Of that, our greatest gift surely consists
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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More stories from D. J. Reddall and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶about 24 hours ago in Petlife
Comments (5)
Are you sure it fades? Seems more like a myth to me hehehe. Loved your poem!
That's so delighted
Wow , so fascinating and interesting
All good things and all that. You get a deftly done for this, D.J. This was excellent. And those images of rotten fruit as still life? The perfect complement to the message of your sonnet.
Ah yes, a shift in perspective that even in suffering, there is an inherent gift, the knowledge that it will eventually pass. This was interesting!! 💌