Wanderer
Where might you be my Origin?
You who plucked a piece
from yourself to bring forth my soul...
longer than time ago.
But here and now,
oppressed by a need to comprehend
if it was due to love, punishment
or my own doing, I'm wandering lost,
feeling banished in the asylum of existence,
amongst an incessant spew of events called life.
Here, where nothing lasts,
and all will in the end be forgotten.
Here, where appearance portrays reality
and reality becomes indifferent.
Here, where the spurious beauty of illusion
and the cult of hope are imperative
to dispel the pain, camouflage suffering
and appease the yearn.
Unreachable Be-ness
Lord of my only truth, I plea.
Allow your certitude imprison me.
Joyful I will serve my sentence,
apace with the boundaries of excellence.
For what sort of freedom
is that intertwined with filth?
Blessed be thy justice
and more so be thy Grace.
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