Library: Wanderings

Restless respite, pacing the pathway From kitchen to the bathway, Soon there shall be an indentation Back and forth, from my recantation Rocking like the ship on the the sea How much longer will this madness be? I stand and lift fingers to feel forehead. Spanish guitars, romantic gestaults An anxious auditorium. Soliloquize, Oh my Sentinal Soul. There are things to be done, And nothing is ever won. Sitting in Silence, sleeping never, naught I wander the streets at night Where in Heaven and Hell, despite My subconscious has nothing Forewith sane thought. Dreams are but the same as reality.. In the realms of night and day. Things meld, melting, molting It is all to me but a play. Oh that ths too seeking flesh Could wherein its Polonial speech Matters of the mind hath figure Composed and in earnest do I beseech. I cannot help but to ponder If life is only meant to wander, Seamless and ceaseless as a careless as a beast is? Once the answers were withholding, But now She traces as the sun, from West to East, Beauteous gaseous death, every beholding.

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