The Flying Ship

The Flying Ship

Friday, November 12, 2010

We Are The Light In The Darkness Of Mere Being.

Weary and desperate,
Struggling through an endless desert.
resigned to this fate.
Lay down and rest on the dry dirt.

But hope arrives like a rising sun.
On the dark night of the soul.
We are what we are, every one.
And we have to live, even un-whole.

Before we had mind, we fought for this life,
With a million siblings we raced.
The chances were as thin as the edge of a knife.
And nine months on, sweet air to taste.

So struggle on through the trackless strange land,
We must exist, just to know that we could,
Deny the devil, and accept help's hand.
And perhaps in the end it will be as it should.

A strange child king over this world we reign
We are so rare, so cruel, so wise,
Battered down over and over again,
Yet still from the ashes we always rise.


'As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.'
- Carl Jung


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