A prophet

It could have been a sin

To live without those hopes,

To carry pain within,

Get tied with all those 'ropes'

To life that's full of anger -

He was lost

In words.

His magic had a sense of temper,

And temporary jokes

He used to pull on any other kind

Could get him to enhance his peace of mind.

A prophet and a scientist,

A writer of enormous lines,

He often doubted sanity

Of those who only saw divine

Delusions -

He could bring all sort of joy

To the minority -

All hues of inspiration

He would include

Into his mind -

No limitations.

A peace of mind,

A soul returning soon

To shining rays

And brief delays of noon.