Oct. 21, 2005
Some see the dead or spirits of the dead Others dream or lie because they cannot see, I neither see, nor dream, nor lie, instead I struggle with the enigma that is me.
The rank unsolved equations of my deeds Escape the resolution of my heart, Whatever life is left in me still bleeds And I from all things evil cannot part.
What does it matter whether night or day When in the silence one is left alone To grieve for a soul that softly passed away. Is love a sin for which we must atone?
It seems the fabric of this life is torn, Among the shreds I live as one forlorn.
Poems Undated (1727)
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