It's seems a finger's breadth away,
But indeed it's so distant,
My quest for it leads me astray,
But to return, I'm reluctant,
It always ends in dismay,
But I still go forth unrepentant.
My heart knows no rest,
My tongue feels no thirst,
As I comb the earth from east to west,
Hovering above the arctic,
Like the gryfalcon that seeks a nest.
I long for fame and wealth,
And a good name and lasting health,
My dreams are a traveller's mirage,
Farther as I further.
Save me from these deceptions,
From the harm of my wrong perceptions,
And from the bane of my illusions!
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Comments about this poem (Illusions by Ridwan Olamide )
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