Monday, September 21, 2009

Poetry Year September 21

The inferior soul can only fill,
one body at a time,
and the lesser mind contains too few strengths,
to listen to the chorus of the multitudes,
that sing that great counter-point,
worked out so carefully
by the blindest of watchmakers,
whose workshop
ever open, and busy with the hours.

The closed and closeted of this age now take
exception to the open eyes,
they seek our sites and stray words
to deny the chance of life and light,
or at least employment of our choice.

So I must conclude
that real life means,
to be heavily medicated,
so that it can be
that all the truth,
is locked away from any sight.

No comments:

Post a Comment