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The Poet
He peers at mists of human lust, looking
Through some mirror to reflect his purpose
In this wide wide universe.
People say he is a thinking animal, a philosopher-king,
The grown greatness, the soul-searcher, glowing alight
To questioningly, searchingly
Light dark corridors of human folly;
A restless soul, a disharmonised logic like Plato
Peeping into the soul of restless man: the corrupt, the Ruthless, the selfish, but within this darkness he stumples
Into many droplets of reason.
