How meaningless our lives would seem to be If we paused to contemplate, perhaps repent The countless infidelities of mind, How we betrayed our bodies and our souls, Our misspent youth and trysts of later years. Regret like a cross would hang upon our backs And towards some distant emptiness we'd stare. The needs we deemed essential and unique Our woes, our wants, inconsequential things, Our grief a canker that feeds on the roots of life. Though sorrow's tears can overflow the seas Never can they move the gods of fate. As a vase is shattered and the pieces fall So with our fractured lives unless we find Concealed against the facile outer view The intimate Supreme felicity Who sits within yet still cannot be seen Except we wake to hear the voice supreme, Commend the day and abrogate the night.
Poems Undated (1727)
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