Buzzards

Hark, you buzzards of destruction,
Pirates of the heathen skies,
Slyly perching on my shoulder,
Telling me eternal lies,
Incarnated by the devil,
And a thousand human sighs,
Telling me that life's a desert,
And all things are false, untrue,
And all goodness is illusion,
Each man struggling for his due,
Fighting, burning, killing, suffering,
To surrender in the end,
Cursing gods and loving devils,
In the darkness that is hell,
All your reasoning can't convince me,
Matters not what you may tell,
Found in deserts the oasis,
And I love this world too well,
Saw the morning sun arising,
Promising a fine, new day,
And defied all hell quite boldly,
For a smile that came my way.
No man ever is an island,
To himself and to all men,
Part we are all of each other,
And each soul which passes onward,
Will diminish me and them,
Therein lies the truth eternal,
In it man may find his light,
Cast aside all things infernal,
Know the bad but love the right,
Understand all motivation,
Try to comprehend each soul,
And the buzzards then shall perish,
With their miseries unnamed,
And but goodness shall be cherished,
Till the heavens stop achurning,
On the final judgment date,
And the Lord calls mankind forward,
To be judged in godlike ways,
And the galaxies stop burning,
While humanity arrays.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2005 Alfred Charasz