Morning, noon, evening and night makes a day,
Oh’ these days I feel the heart in sway,
About a poet to the material world lost,
With a life that shrouds all spiritual beauty beneath,
Teaching the hypocrisy of the wealthy and the wise,
The innocence of the ignorant,
The stupidity of the forgetful.
Together all united in you as mad men’s tunes played,
And in the rhythm you danced and danced,
And the dance twisting your mind to intoxication,
And in that intoxication everything right you questioned,
The mockery of the smiles you have shown,
The mystery of the uncaring you have shown,
In it all I read and read and read,
The painful suppression of a beautiful poet,
The erasing of verses from a mind,
And the mocking laughs I heard,
Of a world into which you plunged,
And burned and buried the poetic talents with you born,
Sanctified are the ones who in life finds,
A balance in all good and bad,
And to humanity they communicate,
In a language mothers with unborn in wombs communicate,
Everything beautiful, everything perfect with divinity filled,
And that feeling poetic we call,
Oh’ all for the magic of matter you left.
The left out spirit to all known tight gripped held,
And every step away from who you are she wept,
Her tears wiping away the footprints you left,
In an unholy art that can’t stand on its own,
Ah’ from far the echo of the weeping I heard,
A man in every adversity strong stood,
Even when my own parent died no tears I shed,
As only the fulfilled life of him to celebrate I learned,
When those spiritual sobs of you I heard,
Ah’ a burning in my eyes I felt,
And helpless down to the ground I looked,
Oh’ one drop upon the frozen yard unknown to all fell,
As the weeping of your spiritual self filled my soul.
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