(An absurd'n'complex enough poem with a lot of ME's and THEE's,scribbled when i was 17 and confused)
God maketh me,He only knowest why?
For i don't have a clue for who am i,
i cry hard with the plea,for i believe He's there for me.
i am sitting in silence without a thought,
Searching for an answer ever sought,
The only thought that comest to me
Is of lust very tempting to me,
Judgement is for me to make,
To drown in the world lust just for my sake.
[Again i reconsider as to why i think lust to be a sea full of fire,
May be i have seen many consumed in the satanic sea,
Or due to infused conceptions of a mystic bee.]
Life is a one time chance (is what said many a priests),
Still i don't know what it's meant to be,
What is there on earth that saith to me,
That it deserves what i have in me,
Tell me lord if such one exists,
For i don't want to begin the journey without knowing
As to where it ends.
Just when i was searching for an answer from
He,
A monk approached,pretending to understand what i had in me,
He said a lot,time freezed is what 'now' seemed to me,
His advise was simple - it was to surrender to
Thee.His memory still rings in my mind
And refuses to fade away like dusk sunshine,
Those soothing words seem very fine,
i try to understand them
But doubt persistingly outshines.
What'st the Lord to me,is the conscience repeating in me,
i can't look at He, still the ascetic says He's always with me,
Maybe my sight's becomest weak or He's hiding from me,
(probability exists moreso that i am hiding from He)
Nor do i listen to his voice,nor can i touch He,
But amazingly out of know-where?i feel He with me,
I am inclined to say this when
I glance down history of me,
Or due to the just awakened sixth sense in me.
i am still searching for an answer
As to what'st He to me,
No answer has resisted in flames of logic and rationalism
As i have seen,
But the question uncontrollably is ejaculated
And it pains me,
May be i will stick to the sermon of the monk that spelbound me--
He said "
Reason for me to be is He".
