PLEASURES
K. M. Kale
Our pleasures are our enemies
Boredom their ultimate end
Yet to gain and enjoy them
Our precious lives we do spend.
Our mind is their home
Where they love to dwell
And the sunshine of the soul
They always darkly dispel.
Only in a state of sleep
Can they be pursued
For them we fight and kill
And engage in every feud.
It’s our urge for them
That make this life a struggle
In which we lie and cheat
Deal under hand and smuggle.
It’s they that truly obstruct
The divine bliss of the soul
Stupid we must surely be
If we make them life’s goal.