13
There is a silence there
in heaven,
That makes the beggar weep.
There sits a stranger on a throne
That makes the thief
all smug, not worn.
There burns a fire
in hell's deep well,
That heaps true scorn
this full ocean's swell
Heaven or hell, in our own day,
is ours now, in every way.
14
He is not free
Who hides himself
From his own curiosity
15
Observe the day
That is all too short.
Take note of the night
That is all too long.
What if there be no night
But day?
Then night she sleeps,
The sleep that in time
Must hold all life fair
In unequal sway.
YOU ARE READING
Meditations
PoezjaOriginally a long page of free verses written by my father, I broke this down into chapters of three verses each and posted them up here. These were posted on FictionPress first.
