There is no greater scourge than apathy—
It drains the living marrow of the soul;
Far better we embrace antipathy
For there, at least, black passion is the goal.
The heart that weeps and bleeds is yet alive,
And though numb hearts may never feel foul pain;
Without bleak woe, to what does joy subscribe;
What loathsome tenets would pure souls disdain?
Without the bad, what brings good to the fore;
How sweet is love without the taste of hate;
How tall stands peace, not ever knowing war;
How bright shines providence without grim fate?
Apathy unbound, leads to irrelevance—
The grandest lives see joy and sadness spent.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.