Sunday, July 14, 2013


Mythical beast or merely a curiosity
Would that I now could look up high
Into that hazed countenance of bliss
Find wherein and wherefore the reason
For a world to go mad in a fevered joy
Where no such joys can assuage failures
Yet wit can astound greatly; even still
To act, to espouse, to ensure, to enliven
For not all in this world is worthless
I shall unfold my hand to remember it all
For into my palm is pressed one rose petal
I know not how it was placed there, but yet...
It is the one thing of beauty now left to me
In all this it becomes the focus of my world
For this one thing of exquisiteness is timeless
But yet still I am witless and shall wither