Monday, December 24, 2012
Let Them Read
I read the lines of a book of strength,
Inside the leaves of the voluminous object
Hides a rhyme and a ride of epic proportions.
Hide their luck, hidden are their faculties,
For few of the words reside in the head
As the heart finds pomegranates and sins
At the same time.
My life and my mastering of death is a fortune
For those with benign qualities,
For their share with a size of my strength
Is the mindfulness and the remedy.
Let lines be liberal with commotion,
Like the neat heartening lines of conduct
And the sparing priests of the orders
One finds a hermit to wander, and to
Extract wisdom from the ocean of his