@d-pend - -
Then to some desolate region
she sends the meddler:
who dares to interfere
with affairs best let alone.
Confined, and set to ponder
in stygian blear — to wander
amidst the cackling dead.
There is nothing can be said
provides the barest hint
into expansive majesty
which, in mischievous glint
shines in the eyes of Life.
Life has her own strange logic
which, if one tries to comprehend,
dissolves as so much magic—
caresses of the wind.
A HIVE original
— by @d-pend _
_ 6.11.20 —
