I have no magical power

to change my restlessness

into glory radiating

peace or purpose in living

they give me no room to better

men or my self but condemn

as one hanged for nothing:

poets are no living lessons

I stand aside ruminating

what I couldn't do or be

or await miracles through

circles and zigzags of the mind

even corrupt faith and curse

destiny for the maze

of my own making and yet say

I know the spirit's upward fire

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