I write this poem for you,
From words absolutely untrue.
For I can see, here through me,
You search in I, truth of thee...

You read this poem to find your I,
Coz in my truth, you seem to lie.
In you and I, does time fly still,
Together, apart, in ever perill...

They hear this poem in surprise,
How much pain does it disguise?
For feelings to them are unknown,
Feeble emotions, to condone...

He sees this poem inside out,
A silent scream, sans a shout.
Only his will can answer this,
Be and it is, be and it is...

                                                                                                        - Ibad Mohammed
© Rhymes in Reason, February 2020

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Discussion about the poem:

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Often, I find myself contemplating the purpose of existence. I haven’t found a definitive answer yet, although there are a few pointers which have guided my thought process in the matter. Discussing those pointers here would not be feasible, as it would involve matters of faith and religion, which I believe are best discussed in person. “Be and it is…”, is a representation of my thoughts on the subject as of now.

The poem begins by addressing an unknown subject. I confess that my words are insignificant to answer the enormity of the question posed. Still I try to reason, albeit in untrue words, due to the subject’s desperation for an answer. 

In this desperation, the subject seems to have put a lot of faith in me, an imposter. This conundrum leads to the line i.e. “Coz in my truth, you seem to lie…”, the duality of these words and their meaning can only be judged & understood by you, my dear reader, and I won’t explain it. However, in this quest for answering the impossible, time does fly away, leaving in its trail both longing and indifference.

The surprising nonchalance of the universe is not lost on me either. Is this question important enough in the first place? and is the importance potent enough to cause any pain? I don’t know. But I do know that feeling such pain would be the result of having strong emotional responses at the very least. And who are “they” for whom these feelings are insignificant enough to ignore? Again, I leave that answer to you.

In the end, I may be an imposter, and this whole charade of finding the ultimate answer may be an exercise in futility. But for me, there is one truth that can never be denied. That is the existence of an all-knowing, all seeing, all controlling, infinite power. We might not know why, but we exist only because he willed it to BE… (According to me, of course!)     

Do you feel differently about this subject? Or have you surmised some other meaning of this poem and/or any particular line/stanza? Do let me know in the comments below or on any of our social media handles and we can discuss!