Alas I found no solace, nor comfort in the libretto of this ode.

Lost in the translation, a missing thought eludes apprehension.
Oblivious of the exacting demands, it continues to elude my grasp.
Vain was my ambition, to think I could create thus and embrace it.
Elusive like the fox hounded by the pack, it can not be found.
Left in its wake; a revolution of half-truths and propagandas.
Yet still its formation seems so near at hand.

Patterns start emerging, from a mist of poise and self-belief.
Orchestrating my own demise I am, for surely none continue beyond perfection.
Enlisting the bard’s gift, I place forth the hidden meanings.
Momentous was the juncture where time stood still and a poem was created.

No comments:

Post a Comment

The contents of the blog, its pages, including all text and images, unless otherwise stated, are the sole property of the author (Jacobus Gideon Hanekom) and may not be used, reproduced, or reposted in any manner without written consent. All rights reserved.