March Of A Searching Mind Poem by Kyriakos Kant

A bird's whistle upon your sleep
Which brings to your day
The dawn of an wandering soul
Why cant we see
how simple life is?
Why cant we stop and thing
how beautiful the simple joy is?
Why dont we want to move within
the sphere of life we think we live?
And if we live, who am I to discuss
the power that makes the sun shine?

Do I dare he asks
Do I dare to disturb what you make me thing its proper?
Stare as I do make the others do
Tremble as I do
My little brain

Is it the sun
that makes me mad?

The knife is close
and it is too late to return to apathy
The whole world questions himself silently
Afraid of what he failed to avoid
Apathy or underground act?
The question that can rarely be asked