A Poet in Agony

 

Dear soul I am but a man full of desire, this passion it drives me,

I search for peace, I find tranquility, I look up towards the hills and feel the sun’s shine provide clarity and light.

I sit and ponder, why is it that in all this warmth I still long for the coldness of night?

Why do I allow the comfort of the moon to draw me in, am I but a muse of which he delights.

My dear soul, I am a man of great complexities, a man learning the craft of self mastery,

I do not seek to be understood, yet for those who understand I seek to provide much clarity.

I have truths and secrets untold, they say that life is all but a mystery,

But to the one whose eyes are opened, I know there is much to see.

If only he may look, lo and behold, the wonders of life that lay before him.

Dear soul it bleeds me to see my people suffer, to see our world in misery.

Made slave to weak hear

ts and great adversity, were we not meant to live happily and freely?

Why does this soul cry out in pain, why does this heart share mankind’s agony?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This ill fate, this Shakespearean tragedy,

 

Tell me dear soul, why must poets cry, why must life to many remain a distorted reality?