When i first began;
There was a brain of idea upon me
Idle and pounding, head drumming
And wouldn't sleep till my pen danced.
Every virgin sheet:
I'd deflower with blue ink,
Giving way to demons and angels
Out my head, without stay.
Yet, now, my brain plain and empty,
Me once the poet of every hour,
Days on days have passed
Alas! My pen can achieve no once such feat.
T'same in all spheres;
Nature's vicious circle of life unbroken:
Beginners in time become masters
And master's beginners, nature's checkmate.