For this fellow yearned to read,
Through every page his life took to lead,
A single word only a single breath he made,
Eyes that curdled from light thus to fade,
A distant memory once known flows to past,
With every line moved his soul so fast,
Worlds once known, too few to remember,
Some single passage, like a gate he enters,
A markéd man who bore life’s cruellest chores,
But still he walks knowing life’s better sores,
Breathes again another chapter that then becomes,
Then rests long a day of work so hard it goes,
Dwelling in thoughts, alas so dark and fad,
Can lead only himself nearer to be so sad,
His only device to conquer be sane to feign,
Nor his bruiséd mind so wild yet to tame,
Sets himself at ease with better yet to feed,
A book much better at ease to read,
A story lone in the life and virtue come,
Shall his worries all dwindle ere so rue,
Shall wander through tales of another,
Each life presenting an issue to bother,
Thinks well and hard, fickle and thick,
Reflects well his life erelong is time’s tick,
Though returns from mind and oh so abrupt,
Realises the way and so his life erupts.

Life, Poetry, Works
, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: