My one truth, my last divination
Mindless, senseless, I chase after a forgotten dream
They're out of reach, but my only destination
I shall never be at peace until I grasp my final revelation
And what shall that be?
Foolish does the Jester laugh,
He's never met a man like me
So helpless and forgotten, such a triviality
An unreachable goal, and he chuckles
Then you may prepare for an endless journey
One that doesn't end with belly nor with knuckle
That, like infant, you will in despair suckle
But they, I say, are my limelight
The chase, umbrage, is my stage
For the audience to see my bright they have painted my face white
So the red in my cheeks must take on this forever-fight for life
And if at last the play will end in tragedy's despair
Perhaps I'll suckle on my knuckle for your face to lose its chuckle
There upon that stubborn hill, lies Jester in death fair.
YOU ARE READING
Thickets
ПоэзияI need a place for poems and poem-like things now that I've made a habit out of expressing myself through poetry
