Episode 82: Poetry Reading

The scent of rain has always been dear to me; 𝖲𝗈 𝗂𝗌 solitude, which by so wide a range Gives me a glimpse of my inner horizons. Here, quite ashore, staring at the endless void And beyond the bounds of mundane fantasy, I bare my being of the burden of conscience, Take a wrinkle in time to get along wi' the wild, To get alone for a while with the churlish child As the leaves of dread and all of grief fade With the cleansing return of innocence. The dusk in my eyes was once a turbid river Of sparkling dreams, in the hollow of which Twinkl'd candor like crystal coins underwater. I seize a pink of release in the death of doubt; And lo! it takes so little a thing For my all to thaw in awe At what gravity is ailing to tame. I catch a sense of ease in the depth of though; And oh! it takes so slight a thrill For all my sight to fall afright At what my soul is failing to name. Like a blooming in slow process Thorough in the art of softly unfolding From the drying ruins of what used to be, I lay the wilting grace of yesterday's flowers Down into the garden of oblivious blossoms. And as the drifting self dwells lost In the fizzing and marvel of hearing The howling breeze through the foliage; I, I compare my silence to the sigh of Nature, To that voice, the suave tunes of which Murmur in the mirth of memory The remembrance of olden joys, The obsolete seasons, the generous ones, The careless spectre of lively youth all clad in her garment of glaring noise. Thus I see my thinking sink in the Immensity, And tender is the tide in this sea of wonder! — 𝖠𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺, 𝑇𝒉𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝐼𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝖨𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖦𝗂𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗈 𝖫𝖾𝗈𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗂'𝗌 𝐿'𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑜 – 1819 –Written by https://www.threads.com/@handofdust101 This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com