Wisdom from a Gnostic Sage
I curse the day on which my so-called friend,
Persuaded by my sisters, chose to come
And bellow at me in my cosy den
Where I had slept for days all neatly wrapped
In perfumed swaddling-bands. For up ‘til then
My aches and wants and cares were left outside
My fortress sealed against the world and time.
But now I am re-born with my old bones.
Conclusion to my life has all been robbed:
I must endure the painful swell again.
Though I am made a sign I now repent
The impulse of my blood which leapt too quick,
For peace by any should not be disturbed
When it by natural means has been conferred.
When brute creation first brought me to birth,
I felt no obligation. Flesh and all
I made of it was mine. But now each breath
Compounds my debt to an impatient god.