Where The Wise Men Gather Poem by Ernest Hazvi Maengamhuru

Where the wise men gather my heart longs to tread too,
they trace the faint voices rather cold. They evoke memories of old with much eloquence like the lone falcon’s hunt for prey. In it, they live my dream, and veil my inadequacies.

Where the wise men gather they breathe the most refined chant
from souls far long spent and give strength to this heart,
conquered by intense fear then i am forever peaceful in my prayer.

Where the wise men gather My portion I want to accomplish
I have no set goals but just an ironic reverie, forever imperfect i am, yet perfect their reverence i see But forbid me not to share my souvenir from life
Don’t sever this bare heart, with your finicking in your unemotional faces, when you scorn my dream.

Where the wise men gather let me be found;
I am no better dreamer but a journeyman, a tossed vapor,
They build barriers before me yet this dreamer’s cares ferment behind bolted doors and mine is a deafening call to be heard.

Where the wise men gather Let them see;
The stiff parts of my life bear the salient instruction,
so, may it be that where the wise men gather to restore burnt bridges
There I emerge among them, purified, loftier than gold.