I have always wanted to sail the South Seas, but I cant afford it.
What these people can’t afford is not to go.
They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline
of security, and in the worship of security we
fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine and
before we know it our lives are gone.
What does a person need, really need? A few
pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six
feet to lie down and some form of working activity
that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s
all, in the material sense. And we know it. But we
are brainwashed by our economic system until we
end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments,
mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings
that divert our attention from the sheer idiocy of
the charade.
The years thunder by, the dreams of youth
grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the
shelves of patience. Before we know it the tomb
is sealed. Where then lies the answer? In choice.
Which shall it be; bankruptcy of purse or
bankruptcy of life?
Note: This poem is from an excellent book called: An Unexpected Light,Travels in Afghanistan by Jason Elliot. The title was: Wanderer, by an unknown author.
