Thursday, 17 December 2015

49.) Again and again I tried . . .




Again and again I tried it, tried to give
And to share . . . to foster on them
All my hard won cryptic treasure.

I wrote my letter to them
And they answered me not a word
I sent my book to them
And they could answer me nothing . . .
Not even a one word
Or else, one to lie, albeit unknowingly
And tell me it was easy
When it had cost me my whole life
To write it

Yet . . . had they accepted it . . .
It would tear them, too, to give them
Everything . . .
All of everything they could ever desire

For knowing it, themselves, they missed it
For thinking they had it, they lost it
They did nothing but hide it from themselves
Where they thought they had it
So I hung up my harp where they threw it.



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