Group 4 — the Void

I look ahead All seems dead Bank account red Winning no bread. Business none Income gone Liquidate Major asset. Have no job Will not rob; No love life No future wife, No lover Who'll cover In her arms With her charms Tightly hold I behold. Every aspect My prospect Dead and blank Empty tank, No potential Existential Future hold All untold Will unfold Base and gold. For my part In my heart Future of mine Will be fine; As for now I just bow, Simply pause Wait for cause, One step take Future make Step by step Step by step. I did try To just die Empty my cup And won't stop Until God On me nod; Fill my cup To the top With God's grace Me embrace. At this time, Stage prime, Cup empty I set free. Future blank I give thank At any rate I now wait Do what's right All my might At a high cost I just trust.

At least a good part of its age The dove had spent inside a cage Until the cage subdued its rage Although dove was able to fly Inside the cage would only lie And through the beams look at the sky Until one day turned a new page A passer by opened the cage And suddenly changed the stage Yet fearful dove would deny That its freedom was nearby If only it tried to fly In spite of our displayed outrage Fear creates an invisible cage Imprisoning even the sage The only way freedom we buy Is our inner fears defy Out of our cage try to fly. Unless our fears directly engage We will remain inside our cage; And thus our life will pass us by In fear remain until we die!

In the middle of the night on the plane In total darkness I am caught in the game Of life. From playing this I refrain Existence, this unknown, by any name. These thoughts through my head, a passing train Playing, not playing, it’s all the same. To play is to be trapped in my mortal chain To depart is to negate, the game to blame. In this unknown I can only feel my pain, Patiently wait for the dawn, impotent, lame. Helpless and angry with God, I complain Why then futile pursuit of such a game? From darkness to darkerness, despair, disdain From void to emptiness, no sense, no shame. Perhaps dawn will end this insane game; But for now darkness and void I entertain.

They say that I fell from the Garden of Paradise I don’t believe; That my thoughts will make my state look very nice My pain relieve; All I need to do is ask, call my own price, And then receive; Yet Reality behaves and operates on its own device, Theories deceive. My drowning boat repair, once, twice, thrice It’s like a sieve; Try to force things to happen, pick-ax on ice Yet can’t achieve. The hands of time force a play, my life like dice, Time is furtive. No matter thoughts how nice, what my price, goodness or vice Fate assertive; No matter how I try, the hands of fate bribe, entice, Autonomy can’t retrieve; My only hope, the Divine, my life’s bitter-sweet spice Reprimand, then reprieve.

Fish swim, even though they don’t know why Animals after their food search and pry Birds fly, nowhere to go except the sky We, humans, only try, try, try, try! Angels with all creatures laugh and cry And the Big Boss on the Throne, brings up a sigh Thinking all these creatures do, is multiply; With the Wheel of Fortune, they rise up high And the descent to the bottom cannot defy. The question I have is why? why, why, why? Why am I born? Why live? And why die? What is Thy Will with which I should comply? Tell me God, who are you? And who am I? For long I awaited God’s reply In silence, all I hear is my own sigh! Perhaps even the Gods don’t know why So the joke is on us who live and die. This Cosmic Joke, none will deny Yet I look upon life with serious eye. If joy and bliss is the goal, then tell me why Tell me God, why should I, myself deny Joy here, comfort here, before I die? Why then through such hardship put myself I? If there is a path in life, where does it lie? I’m tired, help me God, and bring it by. No path I can see with my eye, though I try; Can both the open and closed eye, lie? Tell me, God most High, tell me why? Tell me why, in my life, I should try?

Soul Sickness can’t be cured with effort or will Something else is needed if the soul is ill. Climbing mountains high, or even a hill Going through some kind of boot-camp drill Will only distract, or at best, hours fill; For Soul Sickness, there is no magic pill. What the sick soul needs is time to be still Empty itself from all, be naught and nil; Until Grace of God, soul’s soil may till And sow seeds of life, reap, take to the mill.