Qohelet

2 November 2023

life is smoke.

that is what the teacher says,

in dusty paradigms.

smoke cannot be grabbed at.

smoke cannot be held.

smoke cannot maintain its form.

so should we let it go?

give up because the outcome's far from sure?

he does not think so.

the teacher also speaks

of times for love

and fearing God.

the preacher preaches joy amidst the shifting forms

and urges men to love their wives,

to love their work.

the speaker laughs at wealth,

and scorns the piling up of burnished goods;

he sets his sights instead to treasure sunshine on his face.

the preacher from his pulpit cries "absurd!"

to talk of institutions,

setting lofty long-term goals.

he sings instead the praise

of grave-filled gardens,

to build the house of death.

he offers up a song

of morbid blessing,

deep inside of Sheol's tent.

the homilist decries the work

of city builders,

mocking forward-thinking men.

the rhetorician scoffs,

he trades his coins

for wealth in sunlit days.

the orator orates the need for gaiety in life,

to love the home,

to love the toil.

the sage promotes affection,

he tells his pupils:

"fear the LORD"

"security's a sham,

make your peace

and fear the LORD."

smoke can fill a merry place,

smoke can have a hearty taste,

smoke can make a winsome shape.

"there's your rule for life"

the teacher says.

life is smoke.