I often thought - of angels -
When in enchantment - they sung -
As bastions of beauty - they spy the path -
That lift me - on heavens rung -

No struggle encumber - but to ghouls -
Who willed - cheered - death of my heart -
How indifferently of the numinous - their fictions -
Devils creed - impart -

Tis not for want of love I live
Now I know that to be vain
But the flower of my passion
Blossomed bright for lovelorn rain

I thought how hollow I had been
When of him I'd had no fill
Dreaming, rocking to and fro
At my windowsill

I wondered if he'd miss me
But for love he had no will
And if he would just kiss me
In noon perennial

But it's not for want of love I live
Now I know that to be vain
Tis for the love of life I give
And frolic once again

They say the Truth will set you free
And banish you from dream
The Truth strikes ceremonious
In to cave like sunbeam

Truth is symbolic of the quest
To honour what is real
In her name the Drs assemble
Defend her and appeal

But beware for sham chicanery
Can masquerade as truth
Advancing over Reason
On brash and brazen hoof

Beautiful she is, I know
But not all that's sold as Truth can be trusted
They tarnish her name with their games
And throw a stone at justice

Delight is a delirium
Accustomed to the Rays
Of Lovers sun, fierce fires run
Adjusted to the blaze

A light that leads you lovingly
Out of despairs maze
I bask extravagant
In delightful daze

I reckon - there's a piece of heart
In gestures kind and warm
Like correspondence starting
Which immerses you in charm

Looking out the world so seems
To be comprehended best by awe
Every poet wants to know
What each other saw

Poets summer defies season
A flower perennial
Next to which illusion pales
And is made menial

They could die - to know
How each other sees
Waking to go wild
At blows of melody

Nature is an empress
The sun her glowing crown
The trees her wizened fingers
Entwined with the ground
Royal as a leopard
Leaping through the sky
The subjects of her sorcery
Enchanted all the day

I wouldn't be a poet
Unless I had been touched
By the bolts of melody
But I've had the poets luck
Paying my libations
At altar of the muse
Refiner of perception
Disabuser of the ruse
Attuned to visions nil perceived
By slow and slumbering eyes
Enamoured enough to court belief
For visions of divinity
The poet has ruminated
Her license to be awed
By the splendour of her surroundings
A bug with no known cause
Her incessant thinking turns her to
The subjects of her wonder
The sea, the earth, the moon,
The voice of bards, gods thunder