Oh for the Stoics

Oh for the stoics in their muted cages,
as I present them with madness,
Oh for the gaurd and keep that cannot restrain my mind.
Freedom I taste,
bitter their repose,
for wills of iron,
fail at the feet of a rose.

Their glorious stations,
they hold for life,
to question for years their trouble and strife,
when in the end as we all know,
the curtain will fall,
on this ridiculous show.

For in my mind,
I glance a bird,
who sails through life,
without a word,
of judgment for his feathered kin,
no knowledge of reason,
no knowledge of sin.
The beasts in the wood,
and the demons below,
writhe in their sickness,
never to know,
of peace or change,
for everythings new,
for food and shelter they continue to pursue.

Of rhythm of ryme we close our hearts,
the head connected to the various parts,
the brain the heart,
desires refrain,
the shadow of chaos,
and the distraction of pain.

Joseph Blake

Madrid 1244