what is man but a thing of sorrow

what is man but a thing of sorrow

he pines for love but flees when found

he lives not for fire but because it burns,

a chemistry of life, flicker in the draught

this way and that way

then no more.

what is man that he grieves after things

that is here and perishes forever

he lives to possess and is so possessed,

an atomic conflagration that passes on

this way and that way

               and then no more.

what is man but a careless pile of dust

swept together by a broom in a maid’s hand

he feeds on dreams and hopes that vanishes,

blown by the wind he cannot see

this way and that way … and

               ... then no more.

(27 April 2005)