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Poetry

Philosophical Rambling: Your Life, Death, And Existence

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Mombai in The Gambia, West Africa. Picture by Skendong

Philosophical Rambling

A consciousness exists beyond my understanding.
A human cannot make a bee and give it life.

I can’t define it – or understand it
so I shut my eyes and think.

There are multiple casualties reported
at Squirrel Hill synagogue in Pittsburgh.
It’s dark for my eyes are closed.

The binary structure and things in between overwhelm me.
I cannot foresee days ahead though an AI robot might.

My eyes closed and it’s dark to me.
The shootings make me think of mortality.

How sad it is. How painful it is. How twisted life can be.
How corrupt things are.

Some say people of the synagogue
should have had their own guns.

And my own life? What awaits me when I die?
What shall I be? What form will I take? Will I be actually me?
It’s a mystery. Vague and dark. I gulp a breath and open my eyes.

It’s light in this moment to moment sphere
as the candles flicker
and the sunlight beams through the mirror.

A Poem: The Passage: An Enigmatic Odyssey of Sorrow and Yearning

Skendong

Author Skendong

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