The Portrait Of A Man

A man with his unfading spark
is worth caring, for:
this is when he can be nothing,
but himself.

The spark in a man must not die;
the spark in a man must glow briskly.

But alas!
Such has Providence taken a turn –
man coats himself with lust and greed –
a coat of fine stitching.
The spark which once glowed is now put out,
and the fumes only take a moment to disperse
in the choking, industrial air.

And this when man is reduced to clay –
to be washed off in the floods;
to be shattered to pieces in the storm.

Nonetheless, there is a price he receives
for letting his spark die –
he gets wages –
becomes a wage slave,
a money slave,
a slave.

***

Art by Lucian Freud