Alas, A Bard’s A Bruised Reed!

They make me mad- some people, known/ unknown; They make me sad- their wiliness / ego; They’re after money’s comfort on this earth! Sense/ common-sense are things that’re a dearth. They know how poets have suffered in life! They know how poets land in utter strife! They stay unmoved/ inert- husband or wife: They wound my heart with words akin a knife. Oh how I wish I should be, never me! Oh how I wish I were akin to them; Yet, I can’t simply change: I’m thus destined; To Poesy must Bards always well bind. Poetry isn’t something that pays at once; It isn’t something that gives plenty returns; A Poet seeks the truth without/ within; And Truth is God: God abhors only sin! Being like earthlings is not always right; The destiny of world, poets do fight; Most Bards cannot be dishonest, may be; Their minds are fixed to Eternity. And if they change, could they God realize? Good Bards prefer to be always soul-wise; And like a phoenix die, again arise; And show the world to be heavenly-wise! Oh, one can’t take me for an easy ride; I can’t my emotions and passions hide; I can’t live on with ego great and pride; My thoughts to be aright, God helps decide. The superfluous from the thing that’s deep; The virtual/ surreal from real; The transient from what is permanent; God help me to know and my soul to keep. Alas, a Poet is a bruised reed! His works on earth are immortal indeed; His heart of love is uniquely his creed; His mind wants peace and never yearns for greed! Alas, a Bard’s a bruised reed!