Midday Respite: Don’t Sleep I Am Not What I Seem, I Am A Very Quiet Storm

Considering fullness and its appearance…composition of view may beseem.

Standing close, ever far

the follies of nature…

rarely intellective schemes.

Tempests on a calm…

Surrounded by the Seascape and within all its crests,

It is the undertow where the baseless dimness,

obscures the stirring brunt.

The vortex of self, will hide the quiet storm.

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A Vision of Folly


I saw one rushing madly in pursuit
Of Liberty. With frenzied steps he strode.
Old laws and customs with disdainful foot
He spurned beneath him in a mire of blood.
He stood before the wondering world a god,
A king with Freedom for his spouse and queen.
He felt his empire was divine and trod,
As on a footstool, on the necks of men.
Ruin awhile and havoc strewed his path.
He had his day of glory and his fall.
He stood once more upon his father’s hearth,
Sated with pride, and there in frenzy worse
Wrought foul dishonour on that honoured hall,
And left its walls forever with a curse.

-Willfrid Scawen Blunt

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