The Storm of Nihilism
The Rose that blooms is beyond all its peers,
Overcoming the masses, and their fears.
Yet its sense and its pride is majestic
So that not one may have respect for it.
One drop of rain is followed by many,
And soon a drop becomes engulfing sea.
One drop thinks itself the one exception,
That leads to the flood, annihilation.
A hurricane is born of pride and heat
And it seems to be of the finest wheat.
The mass of precipitation follows
The one drop of rain with many bellows
That smacks the sea, which raises so much chaff
That it should have caused one many a laugh
To see his exception taken with such
An exceptionally large crowd; as much
Is the one man exception to the rules
Than is another man allowed have duels.
But the sea is now foaming with bitter
Waves at the sight of societies flaws,
Preparing for the overthrow of laws,
Refuses to back down, be a quitter.
A cloud of misfortune looms from one drop,
A furious wind that will never stop
If it remains unchecked by solid land;
For it rages too and fro, is unmanned
By any hand that knew the one drops course,
And the wheel has been taken by a coarse
Collage of many disjointed women
And men who do think themselves a real ten!
Now the rose thinks itself the exception,
And the drop of rain its own reflection
In the deep admires as it comes crashing
Down into the raging sea. But to bring
The point to a stuttering close, winter
Shall chaff the rose as surely as a fur
Coat does protect the body in the cold,
And the hurricane shall make land fall old;
For it’s weariness of being abroad
Has caused it much pain and now it must nod
As the rocks weather the stormy tempest.
But like the rose, with no warmth to sustain
Its foolish flaw, seen in the mass refrain,
So too does the hurricane end its days.
And becomes the stuff of legend and plays.
(c) Luke Bennette, October 2012