Peripathetically Poem by Nathan Beery

I recall upon a somber tone,
A quiet night I sat alone
Watching quietly the circle's pinnacle
Seraph's song or Inferno's shackle-
Perhaps not; then the endless circle?
Behind the Rigor's door-
Clamor cried, and somnolent silence...
What lies on the distant shore?
A poisoned wave, a solemn or shallow grave?
I ruminate this grand hour late-
Does a paradigm await the late?
And now I pace, I pace-
I pace from place to place,
What awaits? That distant place?
Nothing to show and less to set the pace-
It is a quiet fear
Not to know where we go-
I doubt, I won't sleep to wake and not to wake
To wake somewhere near...
Is it tacit? Is everything sophistry?
There is not one syllable of synopsis, nor
Snippet of certainty, so I ponder and wander on, peripathetically
on this paradoxical question now, eternally-