The Riddle

The musket shrapnel severs limb from limb,
The blunt explosion darkens day to night,
The bleeding gashes tear his life from him,
Extinguishing his home, his love, his life.
Some live for glory, straining in the race,
Their muscle carves the prize of ash and dust,
Some scheme for riches and the pride of place,
Yet gold and favor both corrode to rust,
Some seek the thrill of pleasure’s biting taste,
Enflamed they revel, and they soon combust,
Some plow papyrus, for Truth’s lettered face,
To find opinion, falsehood, and mistrust.
Yet I pursue the riddle’s end of life,
The cross of love dissolves the pain of strife.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-February 14, 2010

Ascetic Hedonism

The Buddha sees a world of ugly joys,
A satisfaction never reaching need,
And so, forsaking pleasure in his creed,
He turns within to find an inner poise.
The Hedonists see beauty in the noise,
A satisfaction greater than their need,
Embracing sin, they do an evil deed,
But seek beyond the self for higher joys.
Yet both confront a problem ever new,
The goods of pleasure cannot be denied,
And yet they sweep their lover in the tide,
Divorcing him from pleasures good and true.
We seek true pleasure not in lust or pride
For blessed joy we trust The Holy Guide.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 12, 2009