I came to be
the man I was
before I became me
And wandered through
the time of yore
one called one’s destiny
I washed away
those earthly thoughts
and left them where they lay
And walked along
the greener path
with no time to left to stray
I sensed a smell
in garden’s bloom –
it flowered all the while
No time to ponder
what I’d lost
no time left to resile
And as the brush of
woodland fell upon
the cradled path I’d strolled
That story closed –
a new book borne
my narrative foretold
sensualism 