Often the grace of thought and imagination;
Like the retreating waves upon the shore,
Is taken back in flight to relish stagnation
Picturing forth woes and dull way of life.
All`s bare to the thrashing time`s hand;
The arcane breath to contend bliss,
Make youth firm in perversity and confound
Their sense in this ephemeral rage lies.
I may in lofty thought of dreams-quest;
The forever seek of self-identity
Concealed in the gutters we are brought
Search for my true-self for whole eternity.
This verse looks very good in paper,
Only the conversion takes character.
