Poetry: The Mysteriousness Of My Soul!
Bid me to study while the evening buries her head
Behind the darkness of the sprouting night
With no longing hope of genuine satisfaction;
Consigning the art to that of pure exigency -
Theories of the West blended thoroughly
With the Superstitions of the East.
Consumed by years of adventurous endeavors
My memory forfeits its dominance on ideas
That have, over and over, invaded my sanity.
My existence follows suit; no shift,
Entwining and intertwining its bold History.
Then I thought it must be that the soul
Has some hidden commensurable knowledge,
That it is never ending; immortal,
That its immense ambient circumference
Can bear it all; can attain all.
Above my anxieties and fears, and beyond this lucid scribbling
The alluring World beckons - inexhaustibly charming.
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