introspection

in poetry •  7 years ago 

Am I but the fool, who in front of the sun and moon spend his time judging their lights?
When was it that I lost the tranquility of the placid sky, the easiness of water?
Who am I today but a confused spectre of a life form, half of a self-recognized earth child...
I who everyday turns into a slut, charming an illusive self-created mirror ?
When will I again, while alive, finally found rest in the sheets of grace?

(The uncertainty of my beliefs still hangs on the neck of my awareness.)

Autumn,
2015

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This is brilliant. (I think.) Thank you.

Thank you.