Symposium

We still wanted to talk and philosophise
over that which happened,
was coming and was occurring right now
and learn something from it

but my words disappeared
while a rain storm
was unfolding outside
and thunderbolts
draw blue-white lines
with long fingers

and inside
between the rumbling
of voices
I heard a blowfly
going around and around
caught in its own orbit
where there were coffee cups
that where not taken

l’Envoi
and then I thought
what does man really know
and is our time here
not also measured out
till a set day, hour,
minute and second

and while we think that we know
we stray blindly
about on this planet

and in the sky
I heard the works
from the hands
of the almighty Lord resound
before the first drops of rain
fell refreshing to the ground.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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