Thursday, October 16, 2014

"The Riddle" - A Poem

“The Riddle”

The color of gold with none of the weight

The ever drinking thirst no sip can sate

What is the psyche that dreams of the brain?

What is the joy gotten only through pain?

It is the clay that grows, stands up and walks

the water that feeds roots, while tearing stalks

What is the last air exhaled from the corpse?

What is the fire that warms as it warps?

What is most divine, causes sin's worst strife?

The Elan Vital, Azoth, Odyle, Life!

Copyright Jarys Maragopoulos 2010

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