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