Two Worlds Poem by Oleg Vorobyov

Amidst the turmoils and upheavals
of stringent perky busy days;
among constraints and hemming evils
of pressing minutes' fast relays,
there are some split, infinitesimal
ticks of composure and rest,
so that you, forgetting dismal
frets, cares you have been oppressed,
and shutting out intervening
molesting goings, no more!
but restful dose of daydreaming
you sip in through the mind's eye's straw.
Then all disguised world slips dim robes
and stands in your mind's naked eye:
behind its nakedness new globes
flash multiplicities! So nigh,
and close by these mundane wonders:
the bracing air, racing scud,
leaves' murmur, scuttling salamanders
of bold sunbeams, and busy squad
of twittering birds, and also steam
off puffing nostrils of the soil…
Can vision be a perfect dream?
Or tis a whiff of the turmoils,
upheavals of the headlong world?
No! Moments these, I claim, exist:
such grant reposing respite.
Through frets and cares I persist
be overcome by them. So light
so soft, so shrewd, so mind-relieving,
as if I happened on a quiet,
and peaceful island and were living
by musing, also looking unto
myself and asking what's this world
to me? And what's that din and canting
if life so beautiful? Behold!
You may me label "introspective
and vain escapist". Be it so!
Not fly but stay is my objective, -
to grasp what makes existence go;
to shake off husks unnecessary
of dimness blearing our eyes.
It's "what are we? " - eternal query
gets us to don this placid guise
of tranquil inwardly withdrawal.
Once in, perhaps, some long-sought answers
might in as revelations crawl!
So, man in such way two worlds fancies:
one through another just to marry
in mind both things, so fraught and fairy!
14.02.2015