Stephen Crane

I walked in a desert.
And I cried,
“Ah, God, take me from this place!”
A voice said, “It is no desert.”
I cried, “Well, but –
The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon.”
A voice said, “It is no desert.”

A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However”, replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”

Once there came a man
Who said,
“Range me all men of the world in rows.”
And instantly
There was terrific clamour among the people
Against being ranged in rows.
There was a loud quarrel, world-wide.
It endured for ages;
And blood was shed
By those who would not stand in rows,
And by those who pined to stand in rows.
Eventually, the man went to death, weeping.
And those who staid in bloody scuffle
Knew not the great simplicity.

I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
“It is futile”, I said,
“You can never – ”

“You lie”, he cried,
And ran on.

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter-bitter”, he answered;

“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart”.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Crane

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