In Prison

I cried out for the pain of man,
I cried out for my bitter wrath
Against the hopeless life that ran
For ever in a circling path
From death to death since all began;
Till on a summer night
I lost my way in the pale starlight
And saw our planet, far and small,
Through endless depths of nothing fall
A lonely pin-prick spark of light,
Upon the wide, enfolding night,
With leagues on leagues of stars above it,
And powdered dust of stars below—
Dead things that neither hate nor love it
Not even their own loveliness can know,
Being but cosmic dust and dead.
And if some tears be shed,
Some evil God have power,
Some crown of sorrow sit
Upon a little world for a little hour—
Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?

by Clive Staples Lewis

Comments (8)

Oh. My. Word. I zipped up to look at his biography because his outlook was so bleak that I thought perhaps he was writing from prison. OH. MY. WORD. Look at his name again! ! ! ! It is C. S. LEWIS! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! The man usually writes novels, essays, works praising the Lord God! ! ! ! ! ! Wow, look at him go on this theme- - he has turned himself inside out to reflect the heart and soul of the lost. Stunning work without even knowing who wrote it! ! I was so into the persona of a prisoner without hope that I thought the author had to be a prisoner! Well, we all are or have been a prisoner to darkness and hopelessness and C.S. Lewis, a man of God, knows the feeling and that is why he can write us to joy! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
People go on about God, so how did good men think before they could conceptualize tomorrow.. iip
I appreciate the effort took to put his reflection in a poem!
Meaninglessness and the insignificance of existence. Yet while we are alive, we must care. This is a very good poem but some will not like it because it seems atheistic.
Nice.Anyhow the life has to go on despite the pain and suffering. Very nice.
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