Once, when days were calmer
And mud ran freely across sunnier plains
Where all I needed was lazy thoughts
To block out the many guilts and shames
Introspect was easy then;
To rattle in to woes of unimportance
Repeat and repeat the words without meaning
Take in to myself what I wished, without conscience
The world seems miniscule, never ending now,
Less hells are raised by the waking day
And waking today was not such a chore
It didn't draw agonies, or crush, or bore
No longer does mysticism draw me to its breast
Nor sadly inspire, for things I could not possess
If the world is at my feet
What's left to worship?
What's left?
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