Introspection Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Introspection



It’s not so much the time that passes
that matters, that the lines increase,
mind views too much through tinted glasses
from birth until the heartbeats cease.
Man is outplayed until the farce is
played out, until last jigsaw piece
caprice can catalyze catharsis,
fast unambiguous release.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
(9 February 1995 revised 28 November 2006 and 25 November 2008)
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