What once enlightened now enslaves me
For all our blissful feints of insight
turn stale and weary in these seasons.
The Harvest comes… what good shall follow?
What once ennobled now entombs me
Though many trials are come to end,
without demise, our striving goes on.
How may the old war, defeat itself?
What once enraptured now enrages!
The road departs once more to ruin,
each passion of deepest ardor taunts:
“all your purposes are purposeless…”
What now remains to enrich Souls, once:
enlightened, ennobled, enraptured?
Nothing remains. As from nothing comes:
Nothing at all… and a still, small voice.