Meaningless, Chaos and Ghosts – From Ecclesiastes, Chapter 1

xTreme—paraphrase, by Rob Krabbe © 2012

This is the first chapter of a poem based on the words of the “teacher”, son of king David, and King himself, found in the book of Ecclesiastes.  

Shadows-of-meaning,

illusion, everything fades.

Nothing but shadows-of-meaning,

fading. It’s all shadows

like fading steam from a grave.

What is there to show, to know, for a lifetime

of effort, struggle, work, and dreams?

Working till your half dead, burned up;

health fades, death waxes, and the constant?

Fading again, and a fresh grave.

Generations work building empires.

Poor and rich thrust spires to the sky.

Generations die paupers and kings,

but every single one dies,

working towards the grave.

At the helm of the ship, generations die.

Youth takes over,

youth becomes old and dies.

Fading to the grave;

my children at the reigns?

Until their death, or whoever.

Yet, the reigns of what? Vapors?

It’s a heavy burden, God,

not to even know what

is worth the effort.

The world spins and the earth quakes,

the storms come and go, and at most

the sun rises and falls and

indeed, the sun sees all,

from his lofty old place.

Oh that jolly old sun.

That lofty old happy sun.

Yet . . . men’s dreams of conquest fall.

Governments “put in some work”

making great plans

for mankind, personal gain,

“greed works!” It’s said.

New governments, soon are

in the history books; gone.

Ghosts dancing behind shadows of fading graves.

Nothing new? I laugh so hard

a bit of lunch comes up.

Indeed my friend, nothing,

nothing, nothing; everything

ends that’s been tried.

Still someone says . . . look at this new thing!

People marvel.

That too will die.

Depressing isn’t it?

All the waters rush to join the sea.

The waters need some kind of Prozac,

maybe the size of Texas.

The winds rush to their destiny.

Then of course, the sea,

very happy to suck up the water

spits it to the sky, doing it’s thing

with the winds help, comes round full circle.

Hoorah!

Rains fall, and water rushes

in rivers to the sea, all over again.

It’s a heavy burden, God,

not to even know what

is worth the effort.

Work, work, work, feels satisfying, eh?

Is the eye, however, never satisfied with the view?

Is the ear, never satisfied with the sounds?

In all this wonder, the soul drowns.

Nothing new, nothing, nothing, nadda, zippo zip.

Everything has still been tried,

and some new man says

get ready for this:

“Look at this new thing!”

When he holds it up

his hands are empty, because,

it is already a reflection of a ghost in a shadow

of what used to be, a shadow of meaning,

fading.

All the great things and small,

that happened years ago,

and all the great people and humble,

that lived years ago;

none are remembered now.

Even those born tomorrow,

are already dead, into the new grave.

Both ideas, and people of greatness.

All the meaningful things

will be shadows of meaning,

nothing remembered.

Tie up your horse,

walk into your old church

Same words, same horse,

ghosts in the halls,

spouting the same prayers, but to God?

The “teacher,” let’s face it,

king of all Israel,

he was a learner, a good thing.

he was a wise man, a good thing.

he was man who tried to figure out

the mysteries and happenings

of this world under heaven.

He saw much, and all of it,

was a ghost in shadows of meaning, illusion.

It was like trying to catch the wind,

Futile attempts were made,

to sort it all out.

But, if it was twisted,

it stayed twisted.

If it was only a dream

it could not be counted awake.

It’s a heavy burden, God,

not to even know what

is worth the effort.

He said to himself (the king),

I sure have gotten damned wise

and sure, more than any

king before me.

My experiences are vast,

in wisdom and knowledge.

I have even impressed myself.

Yet more so in madness, and

even just outright fun craziness.

Trying to find meaning,

I learned that I would sooner break the wind.

So, in the end, wisdom brought me down,

like a dead shot, I crashed and burned.

Knowledge brought me trouble,

and further down still,

to that old, old familiar grave.

The only good, was to be home again;

with more wisdom, and more nothingness.