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Library: Wanderings

Books

Author: merja
Date:Jun 18 2003


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.


Books