What can one do, if it's the trial of the self,
no, that's not exact-
What can anyone do or say to me
when my spirit is depressed? Is it due,
do my actions create an angry sea?
I understand the choice is not the crew's.
When I lose my ability to speak,
when my heart keeps on graving images,
when I find no comfort and I am weak,
when my presence is full of blemishes.
What is this, is it a transcendent grace?
Is Poetry a sensual pleasure?
If there is suffering what is the base?
Is there more to life than seeking leisure?
Passion dies by reason with love's reform,
but reason dies to passion in my storm.
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