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, 

undaunted