Poem: Ode to the unknowns

Sung he from stories of him,
On wanders across the world’s rim,
Saw he many gardens of joy,
Lived but he in his own coy.

Stung was he by nectars wild,
The times he spent as a child’s child,
Stories burnt and gardens fell,
Lived but he in his own coy.

a-home-in-the-green-by-jeremiah-morelli
Image used for no profits / non-commercial purposes.
Shunned was he by nature’s way,
Stood up but he to find a ray,
Till time unfurled his time to him,
Wandered did he to find that ray.

Stories of joy became an ode,
Songs and anthems too,
The poems known to bear his life,
Raced with time without abode.

Seen by miseries born in hell,
Dreamt again the boy in coy,
Promises of honey he found so funny,
But that ray would surely be so sunny.

Roses and many flowers he saw,
Snakes and many foxes he saw,
Foxes wore a rosy look,
Those flowers held snakes on a single hook.

Paths grew thinner,
And his times too grim,
But brighter was the light in him,
He finally ended his ode to the unknowns.

Image used for no profits / non-commercial purposes.
Image used for no profits / non-commercial purposes.
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