Competition Year: 2013
Votes (2) | Comments (0)
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The mind is less humble.
Words have less meaning but the melancholy paradox
lies in inevitably asking,
Does anything have meaning?
deep in the voids of heart -
Merely a synaptic infinity?
Or a true truth?
In need of method, and worship.
Always returning to the same answer,
Peace of mind, a distant whisper.
How its syllabus evolves.
Through the seconds as eons pass,
Ever capricious Nature,
often begging an inquisition
into its existence and its relevance.
Always returning the same answer,
Satisfaction of mind, the blazing bliss.
Inquisitive, yet blind,
An endless endeavour, noble and never,
ceasing to praise that primordial elixir,
Unbraiding the spirit of life.
And with the slow resolution of mystery,
Another answer closer, another question further,
Until the last apple falls.