Like you, I too, was not amused,
and with life’s pain was most confused;
and yet the mind could love so well
among the forms where it did dwell.
Such paradox of love and pain
caused the mind to turn again
to itself where thoughts abode,
the inward calm, reflective mode.
But nought there was that came to me
to terminate ambiguity.
Thus, in ignorance I did bask,
not equal to the cosmic task,
and sighed a poem to my love;
it echoed to the stars above,
and like the essence of a rhyme
it hit the furthest depths of time,
and showed me all there was to see
beyond the forms, in Eternity.
And in the essence tallied long
rejoicing in the cosmic song.
Was it thus well done ? you say;
In likeness of the cosmic way ?
‘Twas not a likeness of anything else;
for it was... the thing itself.
* * *
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