Two things true, when unassuming do ensue When thy search for why be over Will sincerity be your portion true When thy faults to look at another Leave no occasion, will ensue Opens swiftly humility’s door
Sickened by disease; Taken root so deepWhose tentacles seize; My soul’s infinite sweep To every crevice and recess; It’s chilling fingers caressCreeping further still; till I find no restGroping silently in night within, to rid what I detestI find myself…
Leisurely ticks the second hand.Making customary circuits andLazy rounds, within the perimeter of eternity.While bounds, of anticipation set me freeOf time, allowing each moment to be a Meeting mineEach longing sigh, a secret poem thine.