It Is a Strange World This

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It is a strange world, this, in which we live --
No evil comes that has not good within the tangled skein,
Nor good arise that cannot be abused, no truth that cannot twisted lie.
Within each thing there lives the seed that breeds its opposition.
Yet is this evidence of great titanic struggle twixt the good and ill?
Does the Good God, the bright, the light,
Who serves our needs and our desires with blessings of felicity,
Ever in conflict rage with a dark twin?
Are we, poor human souls, but flotsam caught
Within a cosmic storm, tossed in the tumult of the waves of force,
As Heaven wars with Hell?

Or are we but children, learning as we grow
Into our destined stature?

Restive early, as we test our powers and our awareness,
Stretch our sense of self, and self-importance,
Judging good and ill by our own tastes, we crow in triumph
Or bewail in loss, and curse the fate that costs us pain.
We strive to hold, control and mold all others to our ways,
For thus we find a sure reflection of our own superiority.
We damn that which we fear,
And fear that which we do not understand,
And hold most close and dear the mirror of ourselves.
Yet this is childhood’s folly, and outgrown
When we have gained maturity, and entered wisdom’s halls.
This university of space and time in vast array instructs us
By diversity and contrast, thesis and antithesis.
Polarity is partner to solution’s synthesis.

See, here the many – of one primal substance made,
Yet set upon their multitudinous ways in waves, and particles
And other forms beyond the ken of mortal man --
All dance within the mind of the divine.
And, uttered in the endless circle of eternity,
Word of Perfection holds all in embrace, at first, at last –
And in between, we play and learn, and thus discern
That even dissonance may play its part within this symphony.
Within the compass of perfection’s harmony
Our greatest loss may prove our greatest gain,
Our greatest joy be born of greatest pain.