Pilar, a new friend, has revived the ever lasting poem in me brain. It remains there partly because of a disastrous trial of mine once, to improve my memory. But it's a nice piece nevertheless.
It's a poem that struck me as being simple, sooo true, yet ironic (or even sarcastic) in only 8 lines of text!!
Here it is:
The Four Ages of Man
Yeats He with body waged a fight, But body won; it walks upright. Then he struggled with the heart; Innocence and peace depart. Then he struggled with the mind; His proud heart he left behind. Now his wars on God begin; At stroke of midnight God shall win. Amazing is that I could as well project it on the life of á man as well as on the life of all mankind (through evolution and with the apocalypse at the end).
Euh, no ... I do not believe in God, nor do I disbeleive It/Him/Her!! I am just happy without needing to decide on it.