BEFORE THE VERANDA

My heart looks to the future, ponders and pines. I look into myself, caring, young and agagast mind, yet in the world deep in touch, I may find my place one day. The mood-wave beats in me like a rippling ocean wave: a mischievous round dance of the rapids. 

I look back to my irremediable past, where the howling hyena's cries, like scalpels, have torn a goodly portion of my soul's flesh. Once I have cursed myself, and repentance is in me. Years of flesh-smothering sorrow, which for the umpteenth time would have buried the humanity I thought to be solid under ruins - the interest-ridden minute-man's world, like a cattle-drawn carriage, I no longer understand what I am doing here! 

Who sent me on this journey? And who will save me from the craters of derailment?! It should be now that man, straightening himself, may at last emerge from his valleys of waves to the hopeful brightness. Like the fearful warning of Jericho: daily with assassin patience I am sobered by the conscious cowardly fear! 

Deceptive ceda-baiting and grimacing grimace-grimace-grimace - this present age - may be the wolf of men to fear. In anguish and pain the creature struggles, Till the purse of the profiteers is filled with lightning speed. Morality, too, may shrink to a faithful all, A snarling, pitter-pattering dog: when man is bent to the way his influence will permit, If he be weakened and lose his hold in his own interest. Deeply grieved, my heart is troubled with a mediocre care!