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.
