BY JAN HAAG
Is it true, Devayani, that life is nothing but
of events, smells, tastes, touches?
Is it true that
sights and sounds
are the whole of it?
Is it true,
Devayani, that you will never figure it out, that death is
to every question, every
hope, every satisfaction,
And what is truth? A momentary stillness
of the mind, until
you remember the contrary, the converse,
reverse, the inverse, or even
just the verse, that
you of "beauty beauty beauty" in the soaring light of
summer sunset. " O Bright Wings," indeed,
the gulls cry,
heart of life
on the road as you speed
through life, catching only on the wing
glimpses of a greater glory,
hints of a divine
plan. Has it gone wrong?
Or will we at
take the time to understand? Will we stand in
the beauty of the
setting sun, see the silhouette of the hot
blooded dinosaurs nearing
the last of their
for the beauty that was, for the large-hearted love that
those great beasts for one hundred
and seventy million years
O Devayani, when they went millions
of life forms all over the earth
disappeared. Look around today,
smell the death
in the air as species extinction under
of our existence
that in the days of the
dinosaurs. Have we been here three million years?
Are we already
declaring our readiness to leave?
Does Mother Gaia hear us? Does
dispair that we are incapable
the birds and the owls, the whales and the salmon, the insects.
billion beings soon -- and intolerant of others!
Do we approach a
the boundry event?
one be here
to read this poem seventy years from
Copyright © 2000 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org
BY JAN HAAG