Lotus Flowers
The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:
The Lotos blows by every winding creek:
And yet we never seem to find
a peace from susurrating mind,
in ponderment of past regret
and loss of challenge not yet met.
Faces dazzle in a crowd
when seen without the eye.
Voices bray unnatural, loud:
the ear appears to lie.
The stage is set behind the curtain:
life is short and death is certain.
Accept, and cease to fear it so:
embracing it, let flowers grow.
-- some, 'tis whisper'd -- down in hell
Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,
Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.
Words in italics are from The Lotos Eaters, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
Added @ 02:24 PM to Poetry category on October 02, 2000
The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:
The Lotos blows by every winding creek:
And yet we never seem to find
a peace from susurrating mind,
in ponderment of past regret
and loss of challenge not yet met.
Faces dazzle in a crowd
when seen without the eye.
Voices bray unnatural, loud:
the ear appears to lie.
The stage is set behind the curtain:
life is short and death is certain.
Accept, and cease to fear it so:
embracing it, let flowers grow.
-- some, 'tis whisper'd -- down in hell
Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,
Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.
Words in italics are from The Lotos Eaters, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
Added @ 02:24 PM to Poetry category on October 02, 2000