Friday, March 12, 2010

A MEASURE OF OUR MIND



Do you draft perfect volumes on the moon ?


I am just back without a single tune
Desperate, sulking, yet heaving a try
For that surge filling, lucid loci
Call impossible, forms now shy


" Dear, hope for the morrow, live life full
  Keep the zeal yet warm, the heart total."


*

I now need to pursue a career
Tags, money, identity regular
Put on hold my vocation true
Ignore deliberate, pass severe

Sway and waver but forefend
The heart's raging purpose
Rule out the simple consents
Ill digested, apple accursed

Know not, for what impossible mean
The self perfect wreaks havoc on me
I twice review if it's a blessing
If all's well, even my malady ?

" Allow me," it seems to say
" I alone must you attain."

But without reason, it is beyond reach
Heart wrenched I am, the same at sea
Faith revisited pure, yet again I heave
Waiting, insisting, unfailing.

No comments:

Post a Comment