A Philosophical Tempest

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Rowdy Living Press
Some midnight pondering...

Submitted: March 09, 2017

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Submitted: March 09, 2017





On a misty moonlit pedestal I sit,

Basking in a dream wind from an elysium oasis.

A peach sun arises to greet me,

Ghosts from long lost ages are my company.


“Art thou here for pleasure or profit,”

One of them addressed,

Then I replied with gasp and a deep sigh,

“I am only present for the wind.”


“Why not for lust?,”

Asked the other by his side,

“For ye mortals are certainly apt to temptation.

Ye destroy families,

Loved ones,

Children, nature and nations,

Committing all of this evil on mere infatuation.”


“Of what do you speak?,”

Toward the wind;

And he replied,

“Terrible sin and the weaknesses in men,

The folly of evil and the vainness in men.”


“Did not the face of Helen launch

A thousand ships,

All lusting for blood, wealth and more.

So tell me what good is your scripture,”

He continued,

What art thou cathedrals for?”


“Was it not the sins of both lust and greed,

Who marched forth o’er Europe during the blitzcrieg,

Destroying much,

Spilling blood,

Slaughtering more;

What then, is a conscience for?”


“Many of the greatest minds were then laid to waste,

Technical advancement was consequentially held at bay,

For the wisdom of the angels has now been lost to all eternity,

And the power of reason for more.”


“My intent was to only sit,”

Spoke I into the wind,

“Searching for my own place to begin.

I was just searching for my own place to begin.”


© Copyright 2018 H.L. Dowless. All rights reserved.

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