::: Wisdom

Them candles can't avail me this time.
This time I'm consigned to doubts
And little lights can't help me this time.

All the omens turn obscure,
And wherever I turn my eyes to
What I see turns obscure.

Glimmers of reason visit me then and now,
And now I'm thrashed by questions
And by meanings, confused then and now.

My sight is feeble and so is my dream,
My dream, one of obscurity -
My words can't tell the color of my dream.

Hope tainted my minutes and hours
And hours pass with little relief;
I numb myself for seconds and hours.

I can think of many things new,
Many ways out of this cloudform maze,
But out of it my wisdom won't follow...


The soul is ahunt, it beckons -
It beckons peril and incites desire.
I notice someone out - it beckons.