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FRUSTRATION



There once were two fine Poets,
who sang a pretty song;
who walked upon the Quantocks
which I now walk upon.
How interesting it may have been
if they had seen what I have seen;
or if the power which in them lay
were given thus to me today.

Sometimes I think life gets it wrong,
or a little muddled mid such throng.
But then again, I do not know,
for mystery dwells wherever I go !
And if there were no mystery
in life still yet to see,
then I would not think it fitting
for beings such as we.

For only where there's mystery
can Mind then still aspire,
and by its loves be driven
to incarnate forms much higher.
Perhaps life is just saying -
'Although I let you see
a piece of this, a piece of that,
and slowly, by degree-

- 'Tis only through the living it
that all must come to see;
and nought else can give such truth away;
for the mystery's mine you see ' !
And being thus, the way IT IS,
sometimes desires grate;
and we wish we could thus push it;
lest it be too late.



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