Conceived by electric spark and chemical reaction,

Thus lifestart of lifekind gripped eventual traction.

Thrust forth into a world of microscopic mutation;

Environment decreed progress of random variation.

 

From seas to shores, by wing and limb,

Life spread across the planet with gusto and vim!

Mutation after mutation; change slow and demanding,

The bounteous tomes of creation ever expanding.

 

Early man understood little except how to tool,

With opposable thumbs and life short and cruel.

Where was the meaning to this pain and this toil?

Always within hearts; and especially within soil.

 

To understand with ease was an impossible bore,

Communication and relation innovate raucous uproar!

We commenced talking, barely stopping for breath,

Until virtually all expression has become blasé Shibboleth.

 

Philosophers beg Nature and meaning of thought:

Nihilist style – vacant ineffectiveness of the walk;

To solipsist denial of there being anything more,

beyond their person, their experience, a limited dance floor!

 

Politics; slippery rhetoric and organising the world,

Science; answers and their questions maybe unfurled.

Religion; the meaning and Truth to be found,

Philosophy; as religion but with less dogma to expound.

 

What was the point in this quest for adaptation?

What do we want from our conscious flirtation?

To live in a world; item valued above life?

To live in a world; with this continual strife?

 

Tolstoy posed himself the riddle: ‘What men live by‘,

Elucidating the answer -love; Truth to identify.

Perhaps you expect from me an answer or two?

Oh come on narrator; don’t just grumble, give us a few!

 

But I am lost within life the self same as you,

Fumbling in darkness, scouting for breakthrough.

What we can do is speak together with life that counts,

Treat each other not as faceless profit/loss accounts.

 

So what do you want from our accidental ownership?

To be a big shot rich guy with your very own spaceship?

To be surrounded with love and family and friend?

What do you really want,

come the very

end?

 

Words and pic: ©DJA 2016


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