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The Swing

Be it of a rope, bamboo or gold The tale of ecstasy isn't old. By the breeze Swirls up and comes down again. In every rise a new adventure, a new mettle Reaches the zenith and touches the ground Yet efforts to ascend the higher invisible steps And join the infinite Ceaseless peregrination of man continues For in every man A higher psyche to meet 'the Oversoul' Attain sublimity, serenity, summum bonum And never look down again.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008




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Book: Shattered Sighs