An Ideal That Has No Being

I visualize a strange ideal, sitting on my seat,

That surpasses all rationality;

Oh! Yet to be met in life!

I visualize a strange victory, in the worst of my defeat.

 

That of complete inaction;

Not only of laziness do I speak.

Nor of carelessness, nor indolence,

Or plain ignorance, that to me, now, has no attraction!

 

But of the one, who has given up completely;

The one who won’t even raise a hand,

To ward of a blow!

And of the one, who won’t clasp the straw,

As he slowly drowned below!

The one who sees the crime ahead,

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And walks past it; slow.

 

Something lives within us,

That dies every day;

This frightens me to say,

Why, for the somnolent, such hurry,

So much fuss?

 

Strange, I can’t even see one,

Who has lost all will,

To be,

Or even not to be!

 

One who cares not for,

Life or death,

Or all that lies between.

Strange is my desire to see this being,

Whom at times,

Even I have tried to be!

 

For whatever, he may be doing,

Or rather not doing,

Such a being,

Cannot a human be!