The One by O’ar Pali

Like that one,
Blissful note, 
Amid a hypnotic –
So, you’ve been
To me. 
Like that first 
Bee sting 
That you remember,
For a lifetime,
To come…
So, your eyes –
To me, 
Have been, 
Just the One. 

Like an evil,
Yet, melodious 
– Tune
That one can’t 
Stop humming 
Even to his doom,
Or a worm
That digs on 
So are the words, 
To me –
You speak. 

Like a mid savanna,
Wild Stampede, 
Are those dainty 
Feet, and those 
Daunting deeds. 

Like the clouds that 
Spell rain 
Only to reveal the sun…
Or then sun – 
That shines on high, 
Only to run behind 
The moon, and hide,
Well, as surprising – 
As all these, just as such –
Are your turns, and your pleads.

And still, somehow, 
Your image, in me 
Burns free,
For perhaps, 
I never saw,
What was there – 
Before me. 
And there was 
A beauty in that 
You see – 
The golden age of ignorance,
Via loving maleficence –
There is a humor 
To be had, if it all
Wasn’t so sad. 

Yet, happy is old age, 
For one seems 
To become a
Sage, and no longer 
On the run after 
The One,
You see them all –
As None. 

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