Poem: Why do i write poetry?
As we come to the close of the year
All the madness of the year piled in one corner
And all the pain dissolved in the festive mood
I am reminded by the hand of poetry
To stick to the topic of the season
It’s not easy to lie low with poetry in your being
It’s almost impossible to keep quite with poetry in your heart
I have decided to open up
And ask this difficult question
Why do I write poetry?
I don’t know where I get the courage to enter the realm of consciousness
With my eyes blindfolded by the intense light of logic
I guess I am too foolish to undress myself in public
And let my spirit be seen in broad daylight
It’s foolishness to embark on a journey of the spirit
In a world where science has robbed people of the ability to be naked (spirit)
We are told every day that we evolved from monkeys and the game is survival of the fittest
We are given a body of knowledge foreign to our being (spirit)
We are fed test tube information (materialism)
And instructed to celebrate the technological advancement of the day
We are like zombies stripped of our ability to listen to the Silence within
I write poetry because I am not afraid to listen to my being with all of my heart
To hold Silence in my being and feel the absence of me (ego)
My mind, body and soul all absorbed into the fabric of being – nothingness
I write poetry because I have been given a gift of foolishness
Every now and then I am allowed to discard all of my acquired knowledge
In pursuit of the template of nothingness
It’s not as hard as people may think
To embrace the illogical and be part of eternity
I write poetry because humanity has descended into the thick pit of selfishness
And left their path of Light
Humanity has embraced lies, deceit and untruths
As a way of being relevant in a world driven by competition, selfishness and wickedness
Where reality has been disassembled and assembled into reality shows, virtual reality and recklessness
Poverty, inequality and horrendous injustices meted on innocent children, the poor and the vulnerable
Where money and materialism are worshipped
And unconditional Love is trampled
It’s never too late to look the truth in the eye
And be the eye of the truth
I write poetry because in my private time
I am transformed into a beautiful template of Silence
And nothingness is my tabernacle
I have no choice but to listen to the voice of the Silence
And translate it into poems
I hope this answers the question
But above all I hope humanity finds the illuminated path of Light
Faith, hope and Love
It’s our everlasting existence
©Kenneth Maswabi
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