Lyrics

5. Denying the Joys of Wheat
© Issachar Tal van Kekem
Life is not a finished book, not a thing at which to look
Life is open space, to stroll through, or to race
Life is mountains to challenge or dread
Life is forests and paths to avoid or to tread
Life is hot and life is cold, life is ugly and beauty to behold
Life is everything, and it’s naught,
And when it’s over, what remains is but a thought…

Life is seen by some, as futureless indenture,
While it was meant to be, a mesmerizing adventure.

A man lived in the mountains, slept under a hovel of straw.
He harvested his wheat, and then he ate it raw.
A traveler, astonished, gave him a slice of bread:
“Made out of wheat?! Nice, but so much work!” the man said.
The traveler, then presented him with a slice of cake:
“Also out of wheat?!” the man roared, “And this too you bake?!”
“Well then surely I surpass your kind, and your aliments,
for I eat not the ornate products, no: I consume the essence!”

Life is seen by some, as futureless indenture,
While it was meant to be, a mesmerizing adventure…