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Cosmic Amnesia by Dick Richardson

There are a few among us
who claim that they do know
the will of that which moves all things,
and thus, they would us show.
They say we should do this and that,
for reasons of their own,
but nought there is that stirs their heart
while sitting all alone.

Such bliss in dire ignorance !
for 'tis they that cannot see
that our virtue on the path of life
is love midst uncertainty.
What virtue is an act brought forth,
while knowing what will be ?
And how is that a virtue -
if the future we could see ?
In truth things do not work that way;
and our virtue is thus done,
in which we do, by our intent,
yet not knowing what will come.
But if such act brings forth a smile
upon another's face,
and warms another's heart to sing;
my friend.... then that is grace.

Thus, do not be too hasty
in judgement of deep things
while in the throws of youthful bliss,
and the pain that learning brings.
But in due course the pain dissolves,
and withers quite away;
and only that which is of truth,
in memory will stay.
And what is more, Horatio,
(Oh yes, I know him well ),
you cannot stay for ever
where ignorance doth dwell.
For the road we wander, vast and long,
in darkness, and in light,
will issue forth its message
of what is wrong, and right.

part two

Thus, only time can have its way
on sleepy Cosmic eyes;
and that is why, to judge too soon,
is truly most unwise.
And what is more, 'tis also why,
from Paradise we're cast,
amid the forms of temporal things,
and knowing not the past.

"Oh my love, 'tis time to go,
for something is in need;
and now you must be with it !"
And thus it is.... indeed.
Is it any wonder then
that infants cry at birth ?
when landing in Amnesia;
as is necessary on Earth.

But that which lingers on in part,
and redeveloped in the seed,
is the synthesis of wisdom
and it drives our temporal steed;
nor will not forget its business
in the guiding of our way;
for what is done - is instinct;
and never fades away.

And thus it is that learning
is placed in instincts draw;
and forever to be drawn on,
when our reason is in flaw.
The message is encoded,
on music made of light,
and in the Tree's, and in the Stars,
and in that Womb, so bright