deepundergroundpoetry.com
Ataraxia
It cannot be achieved it seemed,
For years I yearned for more than this,
I cried and turned my head,
Towards an imaginary needle of microscopic vibration
I couldn’t find the words
I tried to write poems, prose alike
Spent too much time using “I”
But what else was there to discover;
Is ataraxia somewhere to be found,
And is it in my own head?
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