SORRY DAYS HAVING COME TO …

Sorry days having come to, I brought laughter.

Then, done with laughing, wistful I became.

No friend of noise, nor silence pining after,

a foe to truth, lies my foe just the same.

A youth still – still there’s something that I fear,

which in drear nights appears and me awaits.

Thus I stand midst my peers to disappear:

A soul, who all negates!

I lack the Heretic’s riled fiery fervour,

who burns and yearns, with his rejecting stance,

the Pope’s calm, preaching anathemas ever,

the Stoic’s coolness, viewing all askance.

I have my doubts about the doubts I’m aping,

my scepticism gnaws at its own guise.

I weigh up, gauge, the abyss seeing gaping,

– a soul, who all denies!

My “yes” to “no” twists, by pronunciation,

my “no” to “yes” by intonation quite.

I go on with contempt, not without passion,

I go with passion – contempt comes despite!

Myself unsure, I’m in turn worse and better,

in tenderness, ill-hid ill-will display.

I ponder, brood – though frivolously chatter:

A soul, who turns away.