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Terza Rima
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In solitude I find silence, in silence I find my voice
In my voice there is song, in my song there is praise
My words near flawless, my ardent aria is Rejoice!
In pneuma I find solace, in solace I upraise
In upraising I see Christ, in Christ I see salvation
My servitude near flawless, my sins abrase
In my heart I have joy, in joy I have jubilation
In jubilation I feel triumph, in triumph I am victorious
My victory near flawless, my fear is not damnation
In reality I am imperfect, in imperfection I am inglorious
My willingness near flawless, my transformation glorious
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Quatrain
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Lying on the floor, no comfort found
The not right noises all around
Contemplate the ease I had before
No comfort found lying on the floor
No word of praise, just not impressed
My friends say matters should be addressed
Perhaps it's I who do abrase
Just not impressed, no words of praise
You're in the wrong, someday I'll explain
I don't understand why you cause me pain
I'll just ignore you til you change your song
Someday I'll explain, you're in the wrong
To be unseen, to be in the way
It's hard to know then what to say
I exist in the space between
To be in the way, to be unseen
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Details |
Quatrain
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Wisdom murmurs amid paucity of things—
seekers contemplative in cross-legged trance.
Pondering vaguities pensive meditation brings—
to apprehend with nonchalance of glance.
While to acolytes, such subtleties impinge—
denied are those of stifled grasp.
For in their minds a fetid dinge,
mundane failure to enclasp.
Stunted ones thus held in thrall,
ever signal their incurious pose.
While unmuted is a mounting wrawl,
from those abhorrent in appose.
The blind above in fog would lead,
who daily task us for our gaze.
They tire us with unending screed,
and we ignore while they abrase.
Rather would I summon stillness—
watch quiet water smooth a stone.
Free myself of this world’s illness—
love gently life I choose alone.
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