Like a wounded jackal in search for food

I am still watching my wounds in awe

My fascination has turned into an obsession

One that will eventually turn me to dust

 

These wounds are devices of remembrance

A healing path on my way home

But I am bound with bandages of illusion

For I see not devices but foes

 

The dance of opposites keeps its dizzying charm

In left and right my head turns into a craze

Searching for lights of illusion in craving this or that

But I find no solace in either extremes

 

While bleeding myself out faint

Neutrality is a drum beat I never hear

Negativity is a companion of my perspective

And the past is a bed rock of my present

 

I cry out in despair for a break of this curse

One that bears the makings of cyclic existence

I cry out in resonance with David’s harp

One that knew the secrets of eternal Love

 

Linzo

Poetry

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