A Revolt of Thought

Strange it is that ages pass over us—
we wear away, while they endure, revolving.
They are the days, going by in haste,
and we go like them, toward the destined end.
I see each one traveling toward a road,
and curtains fall between him and us.
Yet we are traveling toward extinction,
and know nothing but that we travel.
Shall we truly be raised after a sleep
so long—shall light then follow the darkness??
Shall we truly be present at a reckoning,
and the graves give up their people?!
They spoke of gardens vast and wide,
and of a fire in the sky, fiercely blazing.
And they said we are all slaves in bondage,
no difference between the rich man and the poor.
They have lost the way, and we are guided—
for it is reason that points out the roads.

College of Arts and Sciences — Baghdad