Literature: poetry XII

notes found in an 1890 diary 
by Kilian

my fellow men, 
can we be like that 
or even better? 
I turn to you, 
you poor in exaltation, 
timidity or rest,
seek wealth in your 
breathless chest, not on the 
golden platter. 
since gold is rare and your stay long, 
mine over soon, but 
saying this 
I've found the cure, 
for isn't it a pleasure 
not floundering 
all in vain, rather one thing 
pure in heart that's 
firmly planted, so every 
shine now gone 
will mirror in ourselves 
and soul can merge, enchanted by 
rapture, apart, painless,