Poetry: Idea

Hey all,

I know, I'm posting with some freaky regularity at this point. Though watch that comment jinx the whole matter. Anyway this poem came about while watching the film V For Vendetta last night. One of the actors in the film said a line, "Ideas are Bulletproof". It really got me thinking, about how many things in this life really are faulty, how fragile things are. So I set about taking that one line, and trying to create an idea itself, a simple poem about the immutability of thought and ideas. Enjoy.


Idea


My flesh may be pierced,

By bullet or blade,

My heart can be broke,

From a love gone mislaid.

The Earth may be burned,

By nature or man.

The skies can be polluted,

By the mechanics we ran.

My soul may be stained,

By the sins of my crime,

My skin can be weathered,

By the passage of time.

Rivers may be poisoned,

From all of our wastes.

Our lives are spoiling,

By our extravagant tastes.



But of an idea,

It holds no form,

It cannot be defeated,

Not by man nor by storm.

An idea cannot die,

Or fear mortal pain.

For in the minds of man,

It finds a purchase of gain.

Beliefs may change,

And will can be bent,

But the heart of the truth,

Can never be rent.

An idea can't be killed,

It's not of flesh or of bone,

It lives inside of all man,

And for that can never be alone.


End of Line.
Gerrad!