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The Mysterious Boy
Has anyone paused and asked himself about
the mysterious boy who climbed many hills
to discover what was invisible to the eyes:
the brilliance of the downing sun in the West?
Mysteries are never perceived without faith,
and his faith needed no credibility for doubt;
belief is an assumption not based on fact:
he struggled with it and discarded it as trash!
Rocks on his path were no impediment,
they glistened when hit by the sunrays;
sunflowers turned golden and meadows
changed to a russet color around sunset!
He didn't have to jot down the idyllic scenery,
it stayed so alive into his adolescent memory;
no groping fear ever prevented his adventures:
the more he discovered, the greater the joys!
Who has never been captivated by Nature
wouldn't know the awesome feeling inside;
while other boys played soccer, he wrote literature:
what surrounded him was too wondrous to admire!
How many kids of his age preferred playing,
never looking around and be wowed by delight,
never running after a kite and discover a new height;
He plucked pears off trees and rested toward evening!
Did the insidious dusk of gloominess scare him much?
He sat erect on that rock and watched luminaries appear;
each one was an earthly soul fled to Heaven upon death:
He whispered prayers while being charmed by their glitter!
Copyright ©
Andrew Crisci
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