Philosophy Poems
AT THE END OF TIME - ALEXIS KARPOUZOS
by alexis karpouzos
I know that our efforts all come to nothing. Analyze life, tear its trappings off, lay it bare with thought, with logic, with philosophy, and its emptiness is revealed as a bottomless pit; its nothingness frankly confesses to nothingness, and Despair comes to perch in the soulI know the end of us all is nothing, I know that at the end of Time, the reward of our toil will be nothing — and again nothing. I know that all our handiwork and all our ideas will be destroyed. I know that not even ash will be left from the fires that consume us. I know that our ideals, even those we achieve, will vanish in the eternal darkness of oblivion and final non-being. There is no hope, none, in my heart. I know, No promise, none, can I make to myself and to others. No recompense can I expect for my labors. No fruit will be born of my thoughts. I know the time — eternal seducer of all men, eternal cause of all effects — offers me nothing but the blank prospect of annihilation. So, my dignity is broken and weak, in recognition of my impending defeat.
The man who is alone, who stands on his own feet, who is stripped bare, who asks for nothing and wants nothing, who has reached the apex of disinterestedness not through blind renunciation but through excess of clear vision, turns to the world which stretches out before him as a burned prairie, as a devastated city — a world in which no churches, asylums, refuges, ideals, are left — and says: «Though you promise me nothing I am still with you, I am still an atom of your energies, my work is part of your work; I am your companion and your mirror as you march on your merciless way. But I owe nothing to any one. I would be responsible to freedom alone.
After death - Alexis karpouzos
by alexis karpouzos
After death,
I will not be gone—
I will be wind, touching your skin,
I will be silence, deep within.
The body fades, the name dissolves,
But the soul—
The soul returns to the rhythm of stars,
To the breath before beginnings,
To the light that dreams all forms.
......
The Death of a Man
by Ajay Tamla
It is not the body
that withers with time,
but the spirit within,
no longer stirred
by the simple joy of life.
Man dies not once,
but twice—
first in the body,
and then in memory,
......
Illusion
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
The church bell tolled
Within the village’s yawing spree.
Dawn was calm and deep, easing
Light’s hegemony over lukewarm darkness
And the frailty of post-hour orisons.
I saw the clergy’s bedraggled chasuble,
Cursed by the fierce streak of something reddish.
On his mouth spewed forth wind-caked saliva,
Evidence of a hidden tryst.
......
False Insanity
by Somali Mukherjee
No need to hurry;
No need to hustle;
The waves do carry
Our each sandcastle.
Life contains a measured beat;
We need to accept all;
Freedom has a deep seat,
As we're given the call.
......
Wir sind,was wir sind,weil wir sind
by Mario Odekerken
Kein Anfang,
kein Zweck.
Nur das Kreisen
des Seins um sich selbst,
ein stilles Erkennen
im Dasein.
We zijn wie we zijn,omdat we zijn
by Mario Odekerken
Geen begin,
geen doel.
Alleen het draaien
van het zijn om zichzelf,
een stille herkenning
in het bestaan.
Filosofisch denkgoed
by Mario Odekerken
Ik weet,
maar niet hoe.
Het inzicht glijdt
tussen mijn gedachten door.
Een stilte
die meer zegt
dan mijn woorden.
मजारों का देवता
by Uttam Jakhar
मैंने खुदा की
फज़लें भी लौटा दीं,
वो खुदा
जिसकी तरबियतें
एक मजार में छुपी हैं,
वो भी
किसी फ़क़ीर के करीब,
हँसता हूँ
उसकी करामातों पर,
उसकी बदनसीबीयों पर
......
The Death of a Man
by Ajay Tamla
It is not the body
that withers with time,
but the spirit within,
no longer stirred
by the simple joy of life.
Man dies not once,
but twice—
first in the body,
and then in memory,
......
