Poems of Narad

Bud of the Mystic Rose

The scattered leaves are left alone
Lying where they fell,
The grass unkempt, no twig or stone
Removed, the crows rebel

Against my presence in the glass.
Mallard families fly
And hawks perform a circling pass,
Watchers of the sky.

I have become an enigma's knot
Unknowing and sadly, blind,
A speck or insubstantial dot,
A dull unconscious mind

That struggles vainly to no avail
To grasp such tragedy,
Each test along the Way I fail,
Night my company.

All is strange and strangely still
A dark and yawning gap,
Absent of the driving will,
Caught in memory's trap.

How long this emptiness shall reign
Only the spirit knows
Till light shall open up again
The bud of the mystic rose.