Being as Poiesis Heidegger's favourite thesis

Being is. No simple universal category

Its meaning lost in an ancient allegory

The question lost through the march of time,

That which bursts forth in every rhyme.

No mere substance or underlying thing

Many perplexities does this question forth bring

Mocked and flogged, abused forgot,

This question at metaphysics kernel, does persist to rot.

No thought can pass without this guilty lack,

What we see when the surface starts to crack.

What does this ground well 'Being' mean?

Only through the circle can this we gleam

An insight such as his is rare

That in essence ours is being there.

Already we know something of Being’s meaning

Yet from our illusions still are we weaning

What we seek is already known,

Never truly lost that Being is thrown.

When telling the tale long did we all stammer

as the answer lay hidden in the Carpenter's hammer.

Truth is not a thing we can with hand grasp or yield,

but that which becomes as Being is unconcealed.

 We see that as the circle is unfurled,

that we are at root Being-in-the-world

others Being to which all are we wedded

Being with, Intertwined, deeply embedded.

© menshallknownothingofthis.co.uk 2009