Men’s Torment

Ships slice through the ocean’s thin film,

standing, sailing, between the sailor and the death

that for them was already written.

Of their fate they feign ignorance,

likely to stave off madness and rage,

and spend their days on the sea skipping stones.

And on land men throw stones,

releasing from their bodies a bloody film

spilt by blind rage.

Men care and think not of death,

for there is great comfort found in their ignorance,

and so their fate is written.

Songs are written

of and by Rolling Stones

of frustration, disillusionment, and ignorance.

Art also comes in film,

a striving effort to comprehend death,

and to counteract its rage.

But there is also a man’s internal rage,

that only in his blood is written,

and seldom released until his death.

He seeks to cure it, turning over all stones

and thinking and feeling what would be impossible to film.

He pays for, and his haunted by, the wrath veiled in ignorance.

Man pays for his ignorance

and his rage

whether on solid land or sea of film,

long ago man’s torment was written.

It is as old as stones,

and is brothers with death.

To run from death

is to embrace ignorance

and to seek rage.

It is the subject on which every poet has written,

and a theme which permeates every film.

And the death of man raises and is come from rage,

whose ignorance unless changed will keep their fate written.

They are idly skipping stones across that film.