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The Sphinx is drowsy,
Her wings are furled:
Her ear is heavy,
She broods on the world.
"Who'll tell me my secret,
The ages have kept?_
I awaited the seer
While they slumbered and slept:
_
"The fate of the man-child,
The meaning of man;
Known fruit of the unknown;
Daedalian plan;
Out of sleeping a waking,
Out of waking a sleep;
Life death overtaking;
Deep underneath deep?

:***** as a sunbeam,
Upspringeth the palm;
The elephant browses,
Undaunted and calm;
In beautiful motion
The thrush plies his wings;
Kind leaves of his covert,
Your silence he sings.

"The waves, unashaméd,
In difference sweet,
Play glad with the breezes,
Old playfellows meet;
The journeying atoms,  
Primordial wholes,
Firmly draw, firmly drive,
By their animate poles.

"Sea, earth, air, sound, silence,
Plant, quadruped, bird,
By one music enchanted,
One deity stirred,--
Each the other adorning,
Accompany still;
Night veileth the morning,
The vapor the hill.

"The babe by its mother
Lies bathéd in joy;
Glide its hours uncounted,--
The sun is its toy;
Shines the peace of all being,
Without cloud, in its eyes;
And the sum of the world
In soft miniature lies.

"But man crouches and blushes,
Absconds and conceals;
He creepeth and peepeth,
He palters and steals;
Infirm, melancholy,
Jealous glancing around,
An oaf, an accomplice,
He poisons the ground.

"Out spoke the great mother,
Beholding his fear;--
At the sound of her accents
Cold shuddered the sphere:--
'Who has drugged my boy's cup?
Who has mixed my boy's bread?
Who, with sadness and madness,
Has turned my child's head?

I heard a poet answer
Aloud and cheerfully,
"Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges
Are pleasant songs to me.
Deep love lieth under
These pictures of time;
They fade in the light of
Their meaning sublime.

"The fiend that man harries
Is love of the Best;
Yawns the pit of the Dragon,
Lit by rays from the Blest.
The lethe of Nature
Can't trance him again,
Whose soul sees the perfect,
Which his eyes seek in vain.

"To vision profounder,
Man's spirit must dive;
His aye-rolling orb
At no goal will arrive;
The heavens that now draw him
With sweetness untold,
Once found,--for new heavens
He spurneth the old.

"Pride ruined the angels,
Their shame them restores;
Lurks the joy that is sweetest
In stings of remorse.
Have I a lover  
Who is noble and free?--
I would he were nobler
Than to love me.

"Eterne alternation
Now follows, now flies;
And under pain, pleasure,--
Under pleasure, pain lies.
Love works at the center,
Heart-heaving alway;
Forth speed the strong pulses
To the borders of day.

"Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits'
Thy sight is growing blear;
Rue, myrrh and ****** for the Sphinx,
Her muddy eyes to clear!"
The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,--
Said, "Who taught thee me to name?
I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow;
Of thine eye I am eyebeam.

"Thou art the unanswered question;
Couldst see thy proper eye,
Alway it asketh, asketh;
And each answer is a lie.
So take thy question through nature,
It through thousand natures ply;
Ask on, thou clothed eternity;
Time is the false reply.

Uprose the merry Sphinx,
And crouched no more in stone;
She melted into purple cloud,
She silvered in the moon;
She spired into a yellow flame;
She flowered in blossoms red;
She flowed into a foaming wave:
She stood Monadnoc's head.

Through a thousand voices
Spoke the universal dame
"Who telleth one of my meanings
Is master of all I am."
The Old River Nov 2013
The world in which we live is so very sad.
Filled with agony, sorrow, and unending regret,
It is right that those who prosper are those who are driven mad.

We have destroyed, razed, and burnt down everything that was once grand,
The beauty of the past has been overtaken by sand.

Tragedies are now common, there’s always one to share,
From friends here and there, and those we haven’t yet met
So hearing has become a chore, for one, which I do not care.

Only a fool believes that the tortoise will out run the hare,
And though the path seems smooth there is always another stair.

Though Lions will always hunt, and cows forever graze,
And man will be forever lost in a Daedalian maze.
For the world in which we live is so very sad,
That we often times forget that we are the ones who make it so grand.
Emeka Mokeme Nov 2018
My life at
the beginning
of creation
is woven with
words and
watered down
with poetry.
My mind
creates the
pictures that
the heart
wants me to
interpret into
words and
give it life.
My eyes
feeds the mind
with profound
scenes of the
unspeakable,
which my mouth
translates into
intricate words
of clear speech
and poetry.
Complex in nature,
convoluted and tangled,
complicated and twisted,
ravelled and ornate,
labyrinthine and winding,
maze-like and knotty,
serpentine and sinuous,
circuitous and detailed,
daedalian and involute,
mixed up and fiddly,
byzantine and Gordian
mind blowing words
that are arranged
in a delicate way,
to soothe and smooth,
correct and mend,
comfort and bring
solace to heal
our brokenness.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Asyura Apr 2019
She’s a book.
No not a paperback, but a hardcover.
An inviting sight,
yet cold to the touch.
The scent of woody pages lingers,
the edges never ceasing
to cut your grazing finger
when you least expect it.
Her intricate words, unnecessarily bewildering
Her methaphorical phrases will have your head throbbing
as you so desperately search for their
meanings.
“Daedalian”, she would say,
“As in ingenious, intricate, and confusing”
You spend hours
figuring how to unravel her Delphic words.
The more you read the more complex she gets.
A thin line appears in the middle of her spine,
a crack,
from being opened and closed too much.
Her exhausted pages tattered and dog eared.
Your determination to solve her
was no match for her ambiguity.
She’s  a hardcover
you’ll never finish reading.

— The End —