In Hour of Unrest

In hour of unrest, pierced by an arrow deep,

The soul to primal meanings held its flight,

As if entranced by wondrous chords that weep,

And held by mystery of minor light…

 

And what is that piercing anthem of the soul?

To what did heart aspire in secret state?

What could alone create a righteous goal,

Revealed through passion\'s fire, wise and great?

 

In thoughtful mood, while weaving thread of fate,

With dawn of early morn to fill the sail,

The soul refused the game of feelings\' bait,

And sought to catch the rhythm without fail…

 

The moment of enchantment was as grand

As is the ceaseless sound of honest sighs,

Where did the vessel rush in whirlwind\'s hand,

Recalling love that is so pure and wise?

 

The answers to the questions can’t be found

In this fine hour of the soul\'s rebirth,

But every time, the riddles that abound

Tried to dissolve in mirrors of the earth,

 

In reflections of the soul, in love’s embrace,

Born out of beauty as a clean defense,

Unveiling foreign worlds of brand new space,

And paying for all sufferings hence…