Reprieves, give me; for what lack – sorrow remade,
Depth of mine, shallow before, deep astound;
Grief that lays, sighs again, and sighs, so far,
Dares the road that follow and follows not unto,
Banishes the wheel from whence he turns, he drives;
He lacks and still, lacks but frail and sooner nigh,
More, alas; more, lest he the alas choked to be had,
All and lost, for not had walked and made thine thine,
Seen and sees the way but does not walk it, wherefore.
Breathes again but only sustained by soft breeze,
Hails the tears that crawl down his face slowly,
Slowly they hydrate him as he loses all will to will,
Far from this, gestures another towards Death, beckoning:
End all mine, for all for means for road to escape travel,
Out this wretched city, all this way and never return;
Shall I not pass, I shall pass through Thee;
Shall I not, then so nothing help me till darkness pass; for
Must I believe in nothing to believe in everything;
Do I merit everything in order to appreciate nothing?
Here, this life that make me none but under give all,
Wanders through the way, but doesn’t turn back soon;
Renders the life from within, and Death from without.

Civilisation, Life, Mysterious, Nature, Nocturnal, Poetry, Works
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