an enigma

,,Seldom we find”, says Solomon Don Dunce,
,,Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
Through all the flimsy things we see at once
As easily as through a Naples bonnet –
Trash of all trash! – how can a lady don it?
Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan  stuff –
Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff
Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it.”
And, veritably, Sol is right enough.
The general tuckermanities are arrant
Bubbles – ephemeral and so transparent –
But this is, now, – you may depend on it –
Stable, opaque, immortal – all by dint
Of the dear names that lie concealed within ‘t.

Edgar Allan Poe

lead me

From the unreal lead me to the Real.
From darkness lead me to Light.
From death lead me to Immortality.

The Upanishads




















t Upanishad