The grief of defeat
the tragedy of a loss
of the self
of the being
of the seed of existence
an extinguishing smoke
that clouds reason and entity
but, alas, unclear logic!
that cannot be
though sorrow that is not befitting
a life that one should not expect
lowly, one has lived
and humbly one must perish
in reminiscing events that
did not even happen under one's sight
yet is deeply engraved in one's heart
the death of the bogus master
he who does not even exist
nor, if he did, would not recognize one's personality
and the attachment altogether
yet one still dreams of living
beside the light of justice, the exalted character of logic
and yet a mere acquaintance one isn't even considered
for one sees, yet does not exist in that world
or vice-versa
the tragic event, thus, will be of no use
and it merely will be a part of a repertoire
of the thousands of fables and tales heard of
but deep within the chambers of emotion
the relationship exists
and one can feel the vibrations
the echoes of an ideal
typified by an ideal character
oh, machine of logic
oh, servant of justice
the masses are to see what is that they would be
and one becomes part of the looking audience
yet one longs to be a friend, or a student of this master
yet that would be illogical
and contrary to everything indeed!
then one should say, to the least,
that one is satisfied with everything
that one believes in the Perfection
which gives rise to the satisfaction
and is woven further by threads of the reasonable
then one should devote oneself to Perfection
that one becomes a servant and disciple
then, one would acquire the virtues of the master
and of the Higher Master
though to speak of the former is to allude of the Latter.
For justice and reason one will live!
