What mystery?

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  • Philosophy

    What mystery?

    This Life I see is mystery and calls me to engage,
    It pokes and prods and pummels me and calls me to the stage,
    And when I finally take my place and start to say my lines,
    It changes all the rules on me,
    And then a new Light shines.

    The mystery is a changing scene and never stays the same,
    It flows just like a river nymph and surely has no shame,
    For what is there in all this world that ever could be wrong?
    We're only here to dance a jig and maybe sing a song.

    And if there were a problem, then what to me is sweet,
    The world would simply turn around and then the problem meet.
    And meeting with this darkened thing, would flood it all with light,
    Til clearly it could be seen by all as only crooked sight.

    Crooked sight is not so bad, without it how could we see,
    That life is everything that is, both death and eternity.
    And then, of course, it all comes clean that we are all a mist,
    We here, we're gone, we're here again, I think you get my gist.

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    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

    soulman’s Poems (2)

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