A poem by a outstanding writer “Sally Hope”. Please read.

The Cynic

A Poem by Sally Hope(Touch her name. Should lead to her site)

We are who we are.


The timeless traveler was a scrawny old man,

With a pipe blowing rings, and a wizard’s hat.

He sat on a bench, his skinny legs crossed –

A face like stone, and a heart of frost.

The little boy was young – just a mortal human,

With his eyes all red and swollen from tears.

A heavy heart within, and a brave face without,

He came and sat beside the man all feared.

The traveler looked o’er with a raised eyebrow.

“You seem sad,” remarked he in a drawling voice.

“I’m tired of life, and of this mean, cruel world,”

Cried the disheartened, lonely boy.

“Life is tiring, and the world is cruel ”

The faster you learn it, the better,”

The old man said with a gleeful smirk,

And revealed an ancient letter.

“What on earth is that?” mused the puzzled boy,

As he watched the yellowed letter unfold.

“This,” replied the traveler with pride in his voice,

“Is the ancient knowledge of the wise and old.”

The boy was sceptical. He pouted and asked:

“What does your letter say about me?”

The old man smiled. “It says you’re just a boy ”

Making mistakes, and learning to live.”

The boy blinked hard. The letter knows me?

Wondered he with a dawning joy.

“Does it say if I get to be happy?”

The boy asked with a hopeful voice.

The traveler scoffed. “Happiness! Ha!”

He shook his head with a resigned sigh.

“Happiness is an illusion, boy:

A cold trail we follow till we die.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “No…” he whispered.

“I have been happy in my life.”

The man shook his head. “You have not been happy;

You’ve just been less sad in your time.”

The boy refused to believe. “You are wrong.

We can be happy in all of our lives.”

The man raised both brows. “Boy, are you saying,

You truly believe in an afterlife?”

The boy shrugged. “Why should not we believe?

It gives us hope, and a reason to love.

After we’re gone, the remnants of our soul

Merges with that of the universe.”

The timeless traveler laughed out loud.

“You, naïve and young – inexperienced you!

The universe has far better tasks in hand,

Than care about what we mortals do.

“When we die, it is the end,

Of everything we ever thought or knew.

You see, boy, this giant universe

Is so much more than me or you.”

The boy blinked tears. “What about love?

Does your letter call it a waste of time?”

The traveler smiled. “Love is a mystery;

It is a sickness that affects our minds.

“It makes us think we are happy;

The euphoria is a dangerous drug.

Flawed and distrust and hatred,

Are a few other names for your love.”

The boy could hold his tears no longer.

“Is there any good in this world?”

The old man shrugged, and got to his feet.

“Ask that to someone you can trust.”

“But, whom to trust?!” the little boy asked.

“How would I know?” the man countered.

“I trust nobody, nor nobody trusts me,

And that’s the way it should always be.”

The boy watched the traveler walk away,

With dismay coloring his teary eyes.

When, suddenly, the old man stopped and turned,

His mouth set in a defiant line.

“Take this letter,” he told the boy,

And handed o’er the ancient page.

“It will help you when you feel

The world is a mean and cruel cage.”

When the traveler was gone, the boy unfolded the letter;

A smile touched his tear-stained face.

As he stared with awe at the thing in his hands:

A blank, unblemished, empty page.

© 2015 Sally Hope