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Sharique Jamal

Abstract

3  

Sharique Jamal

Abstract

Crisis Of Conscience...

Crisis Of Conscience...

3 mins
210


Crisis of Conscience...

I have to confess Father and,

Atone for my sins,

Or to purgatory do I go,

For a number of times, I have defied the laws of society.

I reached out to people in pain,

Forgetting that man-made borders,

Blood had stained the floor,

And I wiped it not.

Lambs, pigs, and other animals,

Have I resented them being slaughtered,

But fools they called me and rightfully,

Spit on me for my innocence.

I hear majestic trees speaking,

The waves that pound the shore,

The wind that whistles on the mountain,

All sing the symphony of life,

A heresy when someone called me a messiah, a prophet,

You say " what's in a name", 

And I say, everything, for a rose would not

Be a rose without the name nor lilacs,

Or lavender,

For how many can say the name of wildflowers,

None the less rapturous, or the weeds,

If there is nothing in a name.


Many wars have been fought,

Much bloodshed of the foot soldiers,

But where did it start, if not in the mind

Of small men,

What good did it bring,

Then a boost to the ego,

For wars are never won or lost,

Only the body count is higher or lower.

I have sinned much, by my questioning

And curiosity,

What has education taught us,

Just to wear a straitjacket and speak like a parrot,

Recognized by the degree,

But what of the philosophers, the bohemian,

Who learned not the lines of books,

But by wisdom attained through experience.

In laughter and in grief, tears fall equally,

Does it make a lesser man, if he cries for the pain of others,

Born were we naked and fists closed,

We shall pass, naked and with fists open,

In between, we rush obsessed by ephimeral

Oasis,

Never satisfied but forever wanting to reach

A higher summit.


None can fall lower than the other,

Nor rise higher than the brethren,

Why laugh at the path I take,

Just coz it's untrodden,

And not lined with the humans before and those that follow,

Whose aspiration, tribulations are the same,

And trod they on the path society has laid out,

Why should I live another life,

Or try to curb my passions,

For the thoughts of society,

I have sinned Father,

But society did not make me,

Nor religion or country can I be bracketed

In, for born am I free, from a higher power,

And like Nature, I too shall see what others cannot,

And hear the angels singing at dawn,

What is the reality I ask,

Just what that can be seen or heard,

And things which exist beyond our portal,

Do they have no existence?

Much have I sinned and in tattered clothes,

Try to seek the answer,

If my purpose I can find, I shall rise above the mediocre and the mundane,

I confess my sins,

Punish me as you deem fit,

But my soul is with the Lord,

And remains untouched and pure.

Never shall I bend before the so-called

Interpreters of faith,

For the misinterpret, the gullible and unlettered,

For their vested gains,

God has never sanctified any person,

Between His Children,

He knows their agony and prayers,

Whose hands rise to Him truthfully,

For one who is laden with gold,

Fain can his hand rise in prayer,

So shackle me, flagellate me,

I fear not, but no circus lion shall I be,

Who for fear of whip,

Bows to the whims of false gods.


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