Response to W. Whitman (O me! O life!)
O me, O life you say.
You thought faithless were they back then.
Board the train of the faithless now,
filled with fools from the city.
Perhaps they grave for light, but not as much as the object,
surrounded with the empty and useless matter,
the crowds I see around me, their only interest is what’s for lunch.
O me, o life, what good amid these?
For I am foolish too, though I try not to be faithless, but
in today’s world, having faith means you are foolish.
You stood above looking at the foolish and the faithless,
and accepted your part as one of them.
Knowledge has made me faithless, and by letting it do that, I become a fool.
Yet, I wish not to be one of them, nor to be faithless.
Surrounded by the naïve,
alone I sit, in the crowd, reproaching myself (for who more naïve than I?)
Half hoping I can look forward to my useless years, half hoping I don’t need to.
The question, O’me! So sad, recurring – What good amid these, O me, O life?
I am here – I am breathing.
In the powerful play, I play the main role in my life and others may contribute a verse.
It is up to me which verses I keep and which ones I discard.
With this power, I become less foolish, less faithless.