Oh yes, a passion for life had I, yet to die
So young, uncertain the intentions of my maker.
Altruistic, philanthropic, name the topic I loved Man
But so resolved my fated-ill, to the poor I gave it all,
And went searching, searching, searching ‘til the end.
Traveling through the scorching dunes,
A wounded Moor, more wounded by his pride
Than the deep cuts, I did gently mend.
He spoke of hate, damnation, Crusaders to Hell!
Calmly I asked, “To win God’s favor, one must kill?”
With Easterly focus he yelled, “Mecca, money and prayer!”
Hiding high in the Himalayas half frozen,
A monk, to China unchosen, accused of
Pre-meditative meditation – merely born a Tibetan.
Though I wrapped him with my cloak, vengeance did burn,
To the metaphysical man, I asked, “Upon death, do I return?”
Fasting, chants, and meditation, his only concern.
My holy quest lead me far to a far from “holy” land
and happen upon a Jewish woman, stricken
With hunger, begging. But what oddly gave
Vitality through time – her utter disgust for Palestine.
And as she ate my rations, I bid, “Did I do right by all?”
Her reply was short, “honor Passover, the Torah and Law.”
Steadfast still to my journey, through the hills of Punjab
And valley, came I. And there, seized with thirst,
A hostile man of Hindu creed to meet.
Though I fetched some well water quickly, posing
Questions politely, he chose death to Moslem’s drop.
But oh, his last words foreboding, “Beware Karma,
for ceasing rebirth.”
My illness brought me to final locale, a Western
Kingdom on the Celtic Isle. Lonely, afraid, a
Prisoner condemned; only twenty this lad so angry,
So sad. Through consoling I learned, not
death did he fear, only Hell and thus believing a
Killer may be “saved” as Christian he’s claiming.
Softly, still, death alas came calling,
Preparation pointless for what was revealed.
From all earthly images, sculptures or designs,
One could never conceive a deity so sublime.
Though I begged forgiveness, neglecting rituals all,
“By loving my children, truly you have done my will.