This is a poem I wrote when I was very sixteen, or wait! Fifteen or fourteen? It is immature and stupid. But this is acknowledging the simple vision of the past, seen through the eyes of disillusioned childhood. Just making acquaintance with not-so-nice (harsh even) realities.
Eternal sunset,orange and red-
The colourless life, a colourful head.
So many sparkling rainbow-like dreams.
Exquisite gardens of blossoming flowers-
Grown over centuries, dead in an hour.
A flickering firefly gleams.
Twilight approaching, sunset shall go-
All of eternity in a singular flow,
The gloaming heralds a darker age.
Darkness forever in the fairyland-
Castles built in the pristine white sand,
Broken and shattered in a fit of rage.
Castles in sand, castles in air-
Illusion here yet delusion there!
How words do change....
Eternal sunshine, orange and red-
Beautiful flowers destined to be dead
Of what variety and range.
P.S.- I am very fond of this poem.
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When I read this poem, I know why Descartes, in his Cognitiones Privatae, said that poets often more important things than philosophers, often in a better way. This simple poem almost makes me see the futility of philosophy. But then I don't see it.
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