Beneath the Question

Profound thought is circled by length of life and death
Existence question lies beneath,
The origin of me
And earthly meaning of to be;
The urge has egg,
The formula for birth has made into a name,
Born figure has its height and weight,
Without knowing her fate,
A baby cries for help, without being able seeing thing
And later virtuous muted merely by seen.
Life-living version has revealed and been unleashed at last,
What does it mean?
To feel and fight for being able not to feel
To love without being restrained though with respect
When wishful sin is so fragile to the regret,
And so guilt that guides to fell afraid with cause to be disgraced;
One foolish puppet starves and craves,
The madness vanity strain to deny,
Still, appetite for life is high
The creature runs to morrow day
And what is now for today?
Same faces blended into places,
The crawling movement into spaces, Wretched crowd shared by the psycho greed esteem,
Pathetic dream!
The cruel be - without being me,
The chaos feelings, words and prose -
What is the law of universe?
No angled shape, just a round world
Has neither start nor end,
It isn�t male or female
By all the odds it cannot fail,
My true organic structure is a part of it,
And soul as sized as universe,
It breezed by the infinite ample shape
With so well implanted formula to live
That is inhaled by numbers and excelled with tears,
Sure second flies in power of years,
It rushes into greatest number to the limit and exceeds,
Don't ask for more!
Don't beg when math exists.
And still, existence question lies beneath.

© Slava Slavina

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