Come Out of the Valley of Death

What is that poker with holder

You’re carrying on your shoulder?

O dear boy, tell me, is it a toy?

If it’s a fun serving plaything

It surely has an ominous ring

It bellows angry fire like dragons

A terror of a noise does it employ!

O son, to some army do you belong

Who in caves and woods throng

Training to be in love with violence

To be an aspirant, human blood to spill

To be killed gladly and joyfully to kill

For justice and peace of their own kind

Have you truly grasped their sense?

                                                                                                                   

Those tender shoulders would be right

For carrying books with wisdom light

Those feet for sprinting in sports ground

The unlimited your curious eyes seek

Let your heart hear the words birds speak

Who’s caged your mind in narrowness?

Leave the well to feel the universe around!

O child, come out of the valley of death

You are precious, precious is your breath

Live your life to the optimum potential

You have just one gift, waste it not

On airy doubtful dreams, paste it not

Hold the hands of goodness and live

Heavens wish you happiness full and real!

Xavier Bage

Tues, 16 Feb 2016