The Mystical Union

Most of the time I was living and hiding under false pretence.


Delving deeper in the mystical union that never was,

the spiritual ties, which severed before tied.

The perfect moon which I thought you were,

it’s imperfections which I didn’t care to buy.

The light you emanated, I thought was bright,

blinded I was, as I studied you day and night.

Words, did I lack to describe what the blind used to see,

a mere poem you are now,

whose poet I don’t wanna be.


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