Jack Fir Misery (Minstrel Mondays)

In today's Minstrel Monday selection, we have a philosophical poem I wrote when I was twenty-one.  Take whatever you can from it.

It seems that everything

is coming down around me,

and nothing stops

the burning of my eyes,

or the harsh sting

of the wind-blown jack fir

as it tumbles down about me.

The smack and the crack

of a splintering timber,

forced to the ground

by nature's breath.

I stand beneath the behemoth trunk

and limbs of softwood that tumble

and remind me of the pains in my heart.

Life's not easy for me,

as I see our children

reeling with pain.

Yet death never comes,

for it pleases me so.

This life may be pain,

but better we go on

to make it a pleasure for others,

if we cannot partake of it ourselves.

Life never tastes bitter

to a fallen man.

And the trees still make sounds

even though no one's around,

because there's always air

to resonate vibrionic waves.

Only man could be

so arrogant to believe

that sound only exists

when he hears it.

Just as feelings only exist

if the memory persists

and he can feel them.

That is why children don't understand.

They've never felt the pain.

So is it so wrong

that I go on

protecting them now?

Should I stop to care?

Those who don't know pain,

don't know they're not feeling it.

If ignorance is bliss

let the idiots shine

if only for their fleeting moment

amongst the brilliant sky.