I have no magical power
to change my restlessness
into glory radiating
peace or purpose in living
they give me no room to better
men or my self but condemn
as one hanged for nothing:
poets are no living lessons
I stand aside ruminating
what I couldn't do or be
or await miracles through
circles and zigzags of the mind
even corrupt faith and curse
destiny for the maze
of my own making and yet say
I know the spirit's upward fire