Sublimation

the more I learn about language and cultures, the more I see that the Western way of seeing and dealing with their world is basically and tragically flawed.

 

Death is but idea,

A misrepresentation,

To which we wander, feebly crawl,

Or give way to;

Here materially perceived as a destination-

A gated garden paradise;

Which brings an end to human frustration.

 

Or worse yet,

Personified as

The primordial harvester,

Hooded and brandishing a sickle,

Who we give sway to;

Severing all life from its source: as if this can be.

Both are merely products of a futile and furtive Imagination 

Busily seeking an end; a rest,

Or a reparation

For a life lived in fearful separation.