'Wisdom To All' Said The Philosopher Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

'Wisdom to All' said the Philosopher
'Not the select few'

'This way, ' continued he
'avert the Dogmatist'

'And avert Dogma in the ever-continued
fresh assertions everyday coming
from everywhere
from the All'

Then Wisdom will smile and close its eyes
serene.

Then will wisdom will be to All, of All,
by All.



All This Mortality Must Future Time Reverse

These last months, years have been
verses chanted in the shades
of drear and cemeteries
ageing and tombs
and end and ghosts and shrouds
and all the world that with these
goes.

Yet
though I begun to sing of these
in my verses
yet
my heart and my spirit
yearn
to bring back the old work
to Immortality.

Ah! these last months and years
the heart spoke to me but yesterday
there missing a thing be
'and that thing was
the struggle to Immortality'



Love the World of Ghosts and Shrouds

I love the world of ghosts and
shrouds
And made you love it in my
chants and songs.

I will arise me
now
to think of different world
and different thoughts

Yet that now I have known
the world of ghosts and shrouds
I love that world so much
of ghosts and shrouds




Every World-Type its Beauty has and History

Every World-Type its beauty and history has
for so that
there be beauty in all things

For so that there be history of all
things.

For so that there be world-types in increase
ever-increase
and that the bone of Evolution be.




I Yearn to Reverse My Time

I Yearn to reverse my time
Go back to four five years
old
and start from there again.

I am the one who says that I
have made mistakes.

I am the one who regrets
his mistakes.

Shambles of a life, advance in
youth that in it had the seed of
reverse
reverse in middle age and more.

I am the one who therefore
yearns
yearns for the misery of life
to be overturned
to start again
with hindsight of this pain.

With tears I wet at night
My blanket
and silent sigh.

Yearning so goes around me
as my life
as the snake
round its cornered victim
as the noose
round my ageing neck
as the guillotine
above my head.

Wish so
that life a blackboard was
and that
one fine day I enter the room
Wipe all off and begin again.

Alas! what remains only are the
shambles of a dim life
and the words of a Scientist, thinker and Poet Seer!
Not more.