My weary life, that lives unsatisfied
On the foiled off-brink of being e’er but this,
To whom the power to will hath been denied
And the will to renounce doth also miss;
My sated life, with having nothing sated,
In the motion of moving poisèd aye,
Within its dreams from its own dreams abated–
This life let the Gods change or take away.
For this endless succession of empty hours,
Like deserts after deserts, voidly one,
Doth undermine the very dreaming powers
And dull even thought’s active inaction,
Tainting with fore-unwilled will the dreamed act
Twice thus removed from the unobtained fact.


PHOTO CREDIT : TOA HEFTIBA

 

Affiliate Disclosure: Some of the links or advertisements in the wordket website are affiliate links or advertisements, meaning, at no additional cost to you. We will earn a commission, if you click through and make a purchase. Thank you 🙂

Leave a Reply

You May Also Like
Read More

Estranged

As a bad orator, badly o’er-book-skilled, Doth overflow his purpose with made heat, And, like a clock, winds…
Read More

The Journey

I’ve come a long way….. …..From the fulfilling coziness of my Mother’s lap, to feeling lost amid the…
Read More

Moon Knight

My soul is a stiff pageant, man by man, Of some Egyptian art than Egypt older, Found in…