Poetry

To The Psyche

There is a man hiding behind the man you see
whose ego is burnt carbon and is unique
And darkened by the lord of death himself,
prone to the flicker of eyes that would tell
There in the offing is a maddened hour of wee
when in the beginning cuckoo calls
and then an owl entangles the yarn a whole sea
He suffers like a melodramatic king from the tragedy Greek
half devil, half the hermit who would seethe
Let’s open his head by a nut and bolt
and look therein,
A Godly man pole vaults
while he flounders at the first lash of the sin
And all would be to the psyche a din

 

~ Raj Yura

Patiala, India

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