The Vicissitudes Of Life Poem by ENOCH JOHN

Imaginative bliss would on the dreamer seldom confer
The stark reality of solid form and shape;
Only splendid imagery of the mind's eye
And the shifting opaque nonchalance of a drifter.

Deem it necessary to feverishly ponder
On sombre rapidly vanishing spectres
That appear and disappear in random glee.
A figment of the tired mind, perhaps?

Oh! That the vicissitudes of life would come,
A preamble to a higher elevation
To worlds more real and dear
From whence we derive more virtue and pleasure!