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this world below

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Surely gods look down and see the whole:

we're born to cry while growing old

up on the mount, they see the truth

beauty aching for lost youth

the stoic men who wish for strength

runners pushing, can't make the length

weeping women who cut their hair

wise men doubting gods are there

and all the time the thumping sound

these beats of breath above the ground

old gods looking from on high

ignoring prayers that ask them why

the clink of drinks and chatter numb

or are they stricken deaf and dumb

why did they make this world below -

Or can it be that they don't know?

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Of course I love it; I love anything that questions the gods, especially when they do it themselves.

Oh well that was my reaction, and I like the poem. Very good TR.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Super, Joey!

If one can adore a style of poem, then that's mine. Mainly because it has a great cadence for reading and good poems demand to be read.

I've often wondered if the Gods have any idea why we're here, too. My bet is not. They're too busy polishing marble.

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