VIII
SADDUCISM

Bow your head, mournful Sadducee
and contemplate the dust which is your origin;
know that with the Tower of Babel
you cannot defeat heaven, and that life
amounts to nothing if there is no afterlife.
What is the life that began that day
during a red sunset, when the burning sword
of the Angel of the Lord shone at the door
of Paradise? Tell me: what is life if,
like dry leaves blown by the wind,
our souls only fertilize the earth
and wait for the scythe while the tree
of life casts a shadow over our death?
Why strive to know if, in the end,           Ecclesiastes 2:15-16.
our effort is nothing more than the act
of knowing? Tell me: what became of
the foaming waves that lapped the shore?
And those others that stretched to the sky
and with their foam tried to erase
the stars? Tell me: what is it that endures?

I know, sad Sadducee, that you asked           Mark 12:18-27.
with bitter laughter: what wife can we have
when we are dead? Tell me, if you can,
what life is this, if we are waiting only
for whatever is when we no longer are?
Let go of your envy, mournful Sadducee;
allow our hopes to lull us to sleep,
and on our lips with our final breath,
may the Credo be our final prayer.

And You, sleeping Christ, my dream,
as I sleep in your arms, may my soul
conquer life while You dream!