Lost Poem
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The MysticThe Mystic
The mystic is eternal
Like the endless sky
Always present, essential
Shadow-less, existential
Yet together with the rest
Joined, submerged into the music
A lyric loved, loving
Lover into insanity
Seeking enrapture in the
Beloved.
Sobbing on the breast of
Reason,
The mystic soul is a sentimental
Heart homeless
Shrouded with doubts,
In search of knowledge.
He lies in the desert waiting
Vultures eyeing his weak body
Flesh ensnaring
Mirages confuse consciousness,
Lone in the entire expanse of
Earth, of nature he is composed of
Soil, wet grass
Dew drop on red rose
The mystic’s heart encloses all
Beyond comprehension the truth
Behind what you and I
Are.
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