Two Fictions

Each moment we reject a thousand things,
By choosing we reject each other plan,
The fiancée rejects a thousand rings,
Yet it was meant to be, since life began.
Each person can describe an atom’s shape,
We know how stars begin, and planets end,
We learn a thousand truths, our mouths agape,
And yet we cannot fathom living’s end.
We cross the sky in ships of shining steel,
We build tremendous cities filled with light,
We travel to the moon- it seems unreal,
Until we age and fade into the night.
We’re born outdated, aging into youth,
It seems that paradox contains the Truth.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-September 9, 2009

145 The Childish Wisdom

The simple beauty flies across the breeze-
The yearning child tries to understand,
His searching soul is ever unappeased-
For insight whole comes not upon demand.
The child asks the questions without end,
The greatest task is his to undertake-
He longs, the universe to comprehend,
And knows what is a curse, mind unawake.
The modern man awaits his learning whole-
He banks upon the fates to understand,
“Experience,” not wisdom, is his goal-
To dance the dance, and not find greater land.
Thus children know to seek the greater goal,
While elder souls have lost the seeking soul.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 18, 2007

142 The Timely Death

Old Nietzche wrote upon the timely death,
His prophet spoke of those who die too young-
Yet some so very late, draw final breath,
Their souls too long did wait to sing the song!
The young do focus deep upon the Earth,
They haven’t time to weep their broken song-
Yet soon they know full well the depth of worth,
Yet never show, for they are “far too young.”
In hand and hand the virtue comes with vice-
True knowledge grand does walk with love of Earth,
For just as one may learn the best advice,
His soul begins to yearn to flee from worth.
The link with Earth grows hard and taut with age-
Comes fear with final card, not wisest sage.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 7, 2007

109 The Mystery Of Life

The frigid air awakes the memory
Before the snare of modern time was heard,
The child’s song, so full of mystery,
What ere went wrong, the silence of a word.
The simple life was never once his goal,
He wanted strife, a combat of the bold,
He longed for life to grow, become the whole,
And victory to flow, not ever old.
Yet now he stands aloft, not changed much,
His heart still longs for more, not satisfied,
But now his goal is age, and wisdom such,
His youth of spirit in its full has died.
This loss he mourns yet cannot ere describe,
It shall remain the mystery of life.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written December 2, 2006