i constantly smell, hear
and continuously see voices
from beyond, clearly, from right within
my heart; then with the aid of mind
i ponder without funking the infuriating
experience, a life more authentic
making my mortal soul into a state
of dreaming thoughts of divine essence
these provocative dreams
nay, the violent thunder clapping
make me a stormy storm impregnating
my tender being with lightning, lightning
spontaneously gathering around snarling
quarrelling and discord leading
me at the end to Golgotha the empty
scull but hoping that one day though
comprehended much late like the dim light
of the star that is furthest, so at last
my soul shall enlighten innocent children
13.02.1995
Note: Is Justin, my grandson, painting a picture or crafting a poem? His is a piece of art!
1 comment:
I like this poem very much. With the latest revision it became more round and, possibly, its final form was achieved.
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