October 1, 1974
12:30 p.m. 
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Depression VI
Ah, to consruct, in the minds e'er widening
chasm,
The world of perfection,
The place of serene evaluation.
Why can't the mind go to that place
More often, and why does the mind
Torture itself with dreams.
Many will cry with the weight of time's
Coffins, reflecting dead thoughts with their own.
I try to cry when I think of the past
But the future is e'en wider still.
Friendships are lost with the turning of pages
Life is an unwritten poem in a desk.
My emotions yearn for expression
And half-formulated sentences cascade
Like water from the stone-fronted
Faces at which they've been thrown.
My heart will beat a multitudinousbeat
And words will race unintelligibly from my lips
...Then I will turn around to face reality
Where unrhymed poems and unsympathetic people
Serve to mar your heart from joy.
The sadness can be written many times
And many different ways
But as long as the feeling is still there
And it cannot be expressed
Without disappearing before someone else hears it
Then words can fall off cliffs
And water can drown emotions.
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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