In fleeting nights when you awake in doubt
You're nothing more in life but a withered leaf,
Yet, endless twirls keep you away from grief:
Someday you tumble lower, someday higher,
Failing to grasp, what are these flaps about?
Is this the way one really seeks to live?
I gather others' bliss in shallow myths,
I read these parts of happiness aloud,
But inner voice that keeps my spirit sound
Suggests a truthful blab as good as lying,
Where are the perfect mates -- Adam and Eve?
If someone sees them, could you point them out?
I'm looking for a chap with a missing rib. |
