By Joseline Joseph
Before heaven and hell, there was life;
Before soul entered flesh, there was breath.
Turmoil raged before the gods bequeath us with strife
And on it will rage, until the cold embrace of death.
They say there’ll be a verse to our tale
When all that is tangible will be forgotten.
By divine justice shall the righteous prevail,
And the wicked- in their doom will lay rotten.
Hate not, they say, unless he is a sinner.
Judge not, unless she isn’t one of our own;
But it was them that decided what was misdemeanour
And that he that hath erred should have no mercy shown.
Who then decided what was divine?
What man pronounced His own attributes ‘vile’?
And spun these tales of the bread and the wine-
Out of honest insanity or guile?
The limits they know are mortal imagination-
The tales; garbed in all that our mortal hearts crave:
Power, glory and health; wealth beyond satiation,
Life, after we make barren home in the grave.
But hark! Ere the tales and the myths, there was Man;
Man, yet unspurred to loathe His Own Dark,
Who’d answered to none but His Heart through His span,
For He’d known neither a soul nor divine journey to embark.