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Return To a Desolate
Planet
 Souls
of yet unborn children,
hovering .....
high above
the ether of cold winter space nights,
waiting ....
to be chosen
for rebirth once more,
hoping ....
for another
remote fragile chance
at spiritual
completion.
...........
First embracing,
then dismissing ....
the darkest
possibilities. ....
Turning one's
back to the world,
to this desolate
planet,
is difficult.
.........
Minds blissfully
blank forever,
rendering ....
Transparent
souls not trusting themselves,
in the realm
of physical manifestation,
doubting ....
Who were they
in another life?
Will the timid
soul seek another clumsy body to inhabit?
The cruel soul
yet another cruel body? ...........................
Shapeless dreams,
floating ....
In the detritus
of cosmic dust,
expecting ....
this time purpose,
new awakenings,
new illusions
of an eternal present,
indifferent
to the consequences, ....
new cycles
of earthly confusions,
new lives of
quiet desperation, ....
in the perpetual
anonymity of the mundane,
transforming
....
once more into
new images and forms,
for yet another
adjustment to despair. ....
Ethereal players
happily
dreaming ....
Even here at
this end of the cycle,
at this end
of the cosmos .......
To relive again
the painful moment of birth,
to have again
ambitions in the mornings,
echoing sun
....
desolation at
nights,
echoing darkness
....
Still lost horizons
- not different from those before,
offering new
weaknesses to the world. ...........
To exist again
in acts of self negation,
questionable
purpose, unending boredom. ......
Lives dictated
again by ceremonial delusions,
in trampled
proportions of mundane duplicity,
against time
and space, ....
in a trajectory
path of false hope ....
And again,
for lack of better judgment,
with new, bogus
definitions and rules? ..............
With the clear
point of transformation ,
arriving ....
Fugitive spirits
of forgotten bliss,
defying ....
odds and consequences,
in the wrong
hour of eternity,
descending
....
again into
carnal reality, ....
to the moment
of painful fusion,
into the physical
manifestation of birth.
Working ....
their way through
another mirrored presence,
with hope,
but often with
horror and pity,
twisting, ......
in endless
despair, ....
false facsimiles
of another static metamorphosis,
and of all
that comes in between
considering,
....
never to be
repeated again,
never to happen
similarly. ........
Those loved,
will love no longer,
Each moment
lasting an eternity,
each eternity
lasting but a moment. ....
The farewells
and the goodbyes,
followed by
another painful transformation from death,
to the beginning
of yet another cycle. ......
...........
And how will
life end - next time -
if they return
again to this vacuum of false reality? 
Where are the
pluses and where are the minuses?
The invitation
to do it all over again,
considering?
..........
Where will
the renewed advantages be? ....
Where is the
case argument for continuation? ....
Should a soul
remain forever bodiless - as speck of light? ....
Can a soul
refuse this journey back? ....
................
THE RETURN
TO THIS DESOLATE PLANET?
The return to this desolate planet?George Pararas-Carayannis, July 1999
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© 2000 George Pararas-Carayannis
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The realization of
truth is more difficult than its discovery.
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