Priceless Maturity... - Poem by Aleksandra Szymanska
A wise man I shall always admire
and crave for his wisdom he could bestow
to show me the paths I still haven’t discovered…
I know so little…or perhaps I’ve forgotten how
it really feels… It’s been a while since I juggled it
between the fingers of my soul, touching its
very core, feeling its essence, breathing in its air:
human touch – its three basic dimensions and
all levels of its ever changing form, yet undiscovered;
this unknown-forgotten part of life buried
under the layer of stiff schemes of an abusive programme
keeping nature behind the bars of its experiments:
‘you mustn’t break the rules; you must talk this way;
that’s the way you ought to treat her' …
Does awareness show a way, or lead
to a blind corner of everlasting pain?
A man, wise and patient knows the taste of a healthy soul,
knows life and answers to its many tricky questions,
wearing them on his chest like a magical amulet
made of drops of rain… And if I asked him
would he ever accept just one tear for his collection?
Would he help me to find the way back to humanity?
Comments about Priceless Maturity... by Aleksandra Szymanska
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You