The Diary Of Tears ( Four )

Sometimes I behold myself and the essence of myself in the mud of myself

And find naught but the image of sorrow and nothingness

And when I hide my face of the reflection of misery
Reflects me the abyss of loss and poverty

Then I turn me to things thought joyful and pleasurable
And to things dreamy and imaginable

But when my smile is about to spread
And my wingless song, about to fly
Cripples me the derision of life
And the dams of grief within

Then I take me where I thought
My soul is sought and desired
Where embraces are wide and tender

But when I approach their shades
And the closeness of their scent
Strikes me the stone of reality
With the valuelessness
Whereon I am unplaced

(C) Copyright 2010 ADEL ATTIYEH