I The Poet Poem by Leonard Gorski

I, the poet, wandering and amazed
Nailed by unhappiness to the wall
By age and poverty,
On which floor of stupidity or ignorance I dwell?
I don't know,
However, I count beads of the words
As rosary,
In Hope of Redemption
And attain light of elevation
All covered with Serenity.
Consistent and quiet with myself alone,
As the greatest longing for Purity -
Which one touches the World by the wise look.

In my dreams, I'm wandering
Among the shady palm trees alleys,
Where my beautiful, forever Nefertiti -
Who never get old,
She calms wrinkled surface of the water
And inserts hand inside familiar gesture,
Bowing her head
To bless Buddha and the whole Kingdom.
Hiding in her bosom
The script of The United Elements, and
Papyrus of The Secret Proportion,
Silences her existence
In front of the threshold at Highest Meditation.

At the same time
On the bank of the river Nile
Peasant washes his food,
Squeezes thorn from his heel
Whole in the prayer and pain.

The countless form of existence
In the Total Kingdom of Being and Suffering,
In the Space of Vanished Events.

In vain to look
In the scrolls of the treasures
Library of Alexandria
Simple prescription.