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| Monk by the Sea - Caspar David Friedrich |
My troubles weigh me- boozy drink, a tangled net, a quickened sink. These days it's treaturous to find a spirit able and willing to think.
They pull me slowly and it may
even feign to give some way
But when I cease my enterprise?
I fall again, to hope's demise.
O how the sides within me
cannot reconcile themselves.
One belongs in gutter's folds
the other on bookshelves.
But here is my issue, begging your pardon:
why even waste your time growing a garden?
when you know, all of the sweet bees are gone
and nothing but wasps are patrolling your lawn
and with every new flower your pollen's stretched thin
and you start to collapse from the vaccuum within;
The question arises: Where would you begin
This Sisyphus battle that no one can win?
For who could teach the blind to see
when they lack the faculty?
and do the deaf deserve the Muse?
When her beauty is refused
and spat upon by crippled minds
from the puddles they're confined?
So everyday I oscillate
between love and between hate
what I'll express to fellow man
they simply cannot understand
My heart can't bide long in my chest
Still, I wonder: to work or rest?
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