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Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Seeker of Truth

This poem, "Seeker of Truth", was written by a fifteen year old girl. It was sent to be by mail on my 17th birthday.

The words she wrote describing so poignantly and precisely the innate characteristics that prefigured my life are as astonishing and awe inspiring for me now, over forty-five years later, as the day I first read them.

I have always been a seeker of truth. It took me a lifetime to come to understand and fully appreciate what this meant. But somehow my destiny had already been written into the akashic record leaving only the details for me to fill in.

I.

Seeker of Truth
you stand
on the edge of Life
And reach a greedy hand
toward Something you can not explain.
You reach for this Something
Like a child
Reaches for a Bright Red
Balloon
But unlike that child
you will not be Content
with a Shovel,
some Dirt
and a Bucket
if perchance the Balloon pops....
You will wait
and dream
and hope
in the Meantime
that another Bright Red
Balloon
may float by

II.

Seeker of Truth
idealism becomes you
Like a flower
in a Woman's hair
Your humanistic qualities
are Smiled upon, tolerated
But never Understood, or Felt
by Anyone
But you.
For the Trust you put in
Someone
eats your heart out
And a gaping hole
replaces Whatever was once
There....
You will wait
and dream
and hope
in the Meantime
that another
Heart
may pass by

III.

Seeker of Truth
your god is Good
Let others clutch their rosary beads
and rustle the pages of their bibles
Let others go to the church
synagogue
hell
heaven
of their Choice
All the while damning under their breath
their Fellow human beings
Watching this all
You will wait
and dream
and hope
in the Meantime
that another
God
may pass by

IV.

Seeker of Truth
strive Higher
reach Higher
than Anyone has ever Thought
about doing.
(reality becomes an idle Pastime)
Though in your striving
in your reaching
you Trip
and fall
(reality is painFul)
Pick yourself up
and take a good hard look Around
All is NOT Good about you
See man as a Mass
Fighting
Hating
Cursing
Dying
See man
Stoop to perverted beliefs
and discard his Ideals
while licking his captor's Feet....
You will feel Sad
for a while
But. . .
You will wait
and dream
and hope
in the Meantime
that another
World
may pass by


May 10, 1965

1 Comments:

Blogger Day Designs Disseminations said...

Great poem! Wow.

12:32 PM  

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