Sorrow Of The Penancing Sage.

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Blog Post About This Poem.

Heart beats to find a rhythm for the body to follow,
Perplexing times in narrowed spaces no rhythms found,
So all arrows of the life at the unloved soul turned,
The very thought about love ah’, an endless torture.

But from deep inside the soul the courage he found,
Where colors of all that world adore meant nothing,
The paths the world paved with rubbish filled,
And they led to pastures that shown unrecognizable mirages.

Oh’, each wish inside his soul with her face he weaved,
And every one of those wishes he strung together,
Ah’, dedicated every bit of his energy in those wishes,
But a penancing sage he became, alone, in some wilderness.

Not so far, not really near she stood, sat, slept but left,
Him in his penance as the world in all its colors around her danced,
Those chaos blurred vision deafened her and drowned the felt love,
A drop of tear rolled down Sage’s cheek to become ink of his verse.

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