When will you ever

When will you ever stop talking about what
that goes beyond the intrigue of the body,
of the painful luninosity of the mind,
of the reasons and wrongs,
of the straight back of justice,
while you think only of yourself,
perhaps then you will have grown up.
when ever empathy,
the recognition of one in the one,
the moved weeping over the wounds of a murderer
and the incredulous, pitying face of the mud-stained child,
will bite into your narcissism,
perhaps then you will have grown up.
when will you ever be indifferent to the decomposition of the body
and the insult of desire
and you will look serenely into the eyes of the fool who asks you for help,
then you will be able to die in peace