Wednesday, March 28, 2007

158 Sleep

Oh sleep, thou art a boon for weary souls!
Oh dreams, thou art repose for weary minds!
In slumber lies the healer of the holes,
In dreaming dies distress of many kinds!
The misery of life does grow with age,
The tapestry of wisdom, pain displays-
And yet in hallowed sleep is peace the sage,
Repose so greatly deep- it ne'er decays!
Yet life does hold a boon- sweet victory!
It leadeth to the tomb, but to a gold,
For aged life, with Wisdom's industry,
Holds naught of strife, but joyous songs of old!
So sleep in loss, in misery of pain-
But live to cross beyond this happy feign!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O'Neil)
Written March 27, 2007

Monday, March 26, 2007

157 The Partnership

Man longs to know the secrets of the world,
The hidden flow of breezes o’er the earth,
The mystery of death and netherworld,
The gold of living breath, all living’s worth.
To find the secret here, he turns to “laws,”
To thought’s ungainly sphere he does seclude,
He postulates, examines, finds his flaws,
His mind creates new laws, however crude.
Thus knowledge grows, and recreates itself,
Man ever knows much more than once he did,
And yet without a goal, this has no wealth,
As Man without a soul is just an id.
The knowledge by itself is not enough,
Bereft of Wisdom’s wealth it’s naught but fluff.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 26, 2007

156 The Self

What is the self, the essence of the soul?
Has it a wealth, a treasure-trove of gold?
Or is it worthless, stale, and never whole,
A longing pit so pale, and ever cold?
The impulse to beget is ne’er subdued,
The avarice is set to rule the world-
The will to live does other lives exclude,
It fails to give a purpose, to be ruled!
The will to aid comes not from distant self,
The just crusade is waged for higher cause,
True love, that beauty gold, looks not to wealth,
The wisdom of the old wants no applause.
In short all bleak design is of the self,
While golden beauty fine, of higher wealth.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 26, 2007

Monday, March 19, 2007

155 The Failure Of Science

Across the sea, and many desert sands-
The victory of Wisdom does reside,
The Truth, in glory decked, above all lands-
All falsehoods shall be wrecked, all farce denied!
Each People understands whate’er it will,
The shifting of the sands, the skies above,
Yet fullest Truth seems ever unfulfilled,
Man’s constant youth in thought shows lack thereof.
While all believe they know the deepest truth,
They do deceive themselves on that account,
Experience dictates their thought uncouth,
Their one acquaintance rates a slight amount!
Full Truth does lie beyond man’s present state,
His knowledge, like the maund,* does fluctuate.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 18, 2007

* unit of measure in Asia that has different values for different countries

Saturday, March 17, 2007

154 The Bridge of Death

A restless soul cries ever for the light-
His constant goal is not to be appeased-
‘Tis those who do not see that will have sight-
But those who shall not be are now deceased!
As Socrates said well, before his death,
‘The life that has a knell, do not prolong,’
If not a bridge, death has no greater wealth-
If ‘tis a ridge to nothing, life’s foregone!
Do not accept the pessimistic view-
‘Tis not adept to changing circumstance!
Afore the reaper reaps, none ever knew-
So live when body sleeps- not die, but dance!
Live not for gleeful cheer that shall be gone-
But search beyond the sphere- what shall live on?
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 17, 2007

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

153 Man’s Dilemma

The beast and Gentleman ne’er end the strife,
The animal, again, does long for flesh,
Philosopher e’er pines for higher life,
It is not her, but Her, who is the best!
Mankind is close to choosing Perfect Will,
Her golden robes are ever just in sight,
And just as Wisdom’s Truth is closer still,
Mankind, in foolish youth, dismisses light!
To serve, our deepest fear and greatest goal,
Does draw so ever near, and we withdraw,
When Wisdom moves into our deepest soul,
We flee in droves, uncertain- what a flaw!
Full self-control is ever what we yearn,
Yet “freedom’s” goal is e’er to Wisdom spurn!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 13, 2007

Monday, March 5, 2007

152 The Task of Modern Man

A property unknown to many men,
Virility has all but disappeared-
Abandonment of sword and mighty pen-
Has bred the horrid horde the ancients feared.
As he who took the sea* once truly said,
The brutish force is not alone the flaw,
The “milk and water Righteousness” is dead,
And serves a brutish hit to Righteous law!
Alas, that Man does not defend the right!
Alas, he cares for nothing but himself!
He goes from mate to mate- all flesh in sight,
And yet has little time for things of wealth!
I ask the query, “whence have good men gone?”
For now we must return, with Virtue’s song!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 5, 2007

*Theodore Roosevelt

Sunday, March 4, 2007

151 The Prayer

Oh Lord of Hosts- I ask too many things!
I wish for most of ev’ry great idea-
I ask for wisdom’s song, it ever sings!
I ask for death of wrong- for Glory dear!
Unveil the horrid mask- that thwarts my quest!
‘Tis this alone I ask- the greatest gold-
I wish to know what goal is ever best-
‘Tis wisdom, though- to know the highest gold!
I pine for her- the answerer sublime!
She is the cure of ignorance and fool-
She’ll tell me what to seek, beyond all time-
For her, I do beseech, the grandest tool!
Yet wisdom on her own is not fulfilled-
Give Righteous will its throne, and ill is killed!
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 4, 2007

150 The Will To Live

The woman standing there intoxicates-
The beauty of her hair and features meld,
Her beauteous form, my blazing flame awaits,
My passion’s storm, her lovely body welds.
Yet now I ask- “Am I in love with her?”
My hardest task, to understand myself,
True love is Will for Good to come to her,
It is not understood, this highest wealth.
And yet when I conceive of what I would,
I know I would not grieve upon her death,
For if I lost her to another’s good,
The winter’s frost would make me loathe her breath.
This will to live- a wish to her possess,
No worth does give, save wisdom in its death.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written March 4, 2007