Are we really present in this body <br />when we pass at night <br />through our lands of dream? <br />Supposed we wanted to <br />know what 'we' really are <br />beyond the pleasing hurting physics. <br /> <br />If sleep is a continually needed stop for reshaping-up, <br />metered out over one and same vehicle of life, <br />that, as we all are, is <br />struggling so wearily <br />by all means of inner qualities, <br />in an ever growing turmoil of outer nature, <br />while really trying hard, somehow, <br />time and again, in all possible kinds of habitat, <br />to raise sharp-defining matches on flatly impossible conditions, <br />and all of this <br />just to survive this blunt massive gravity <br />that endlessly causes each and everything, <br />in its unrelenting grip of the elements of creation, <br />to whirl about: <br /> <br />Is not death then just the <br />well-deserved resting of a bored player who, <br />finally having managed the <br />clearing of the table of his <br />game set-up of chances, <br />eventually run stale-mate, <br />settling to relax for a while, <br />either sitting idle on the spot or <br />doing other things in <br />another world of schemes meanwhile, <br />getting ready, eventually, <br />for a new round of the old game, <br />there back home again <br />hopefully with an <br />enjoyable set-up of the <br />allotted player marbles? <br /> <br />Oh dear God high above, <br />would You allow me for once <br />to shake and thrust that <br />tumbler of fate's dice <br />myself?<br /><br />Erhard Hans Josef Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/is-death-really-of-the-nature-of-life-dear-god/
