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The Web Poetry Corner - Philip Claude Andermann - The Gem Within Sings

The Gem Within Sings

by

Philip Claude Andermann

I am cold, life is shred of the clothing of meaning. I am burning, life is burning, itself away, into the ground we have made barren.

Still there remains the chorus of those who lived and those who have not lived. From the fragility of life we still suppose we derive an eternity of growing compassion.

I hear also the chorus of the unborn. Those who will be born and those who will not be born, after all. Their song decides if this whole thing was a chimera.

We feel but a particle of the dead dust, but every movement we make trembles the earth like the steps of a hapless giant, until the passion of volcanoes and (loving) eyes to see too have died away. My conception, a shudder in the loins, is so improbable it must have been a delusion. It wouold seem that love, married to violence, impotent to change, would rape itself away in Armageddon of self-destruction, as though it had never existed.

But if Time is infinite both ways, and hope exists today, then by probability hope must exist forever. How do we know Time is eternal? Somehow each struggle this moment most make the moment eternal, thus hope eternal; and those shred naked in the streets and those who may never be be born still are clad in the robe with the gem of supreme value.


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