Sidney Park

Sidney Park will not be mine. Am I too greedy for beauty?

Was I aiming too high?

One day I am mighty, like Gautama, under my bodhi tree I plant the seeds of hope, I tap with my fingers on the ground, and I beat every foe.

Now I am confined in a remote gaol. No mercy for a kind sinner. No sympathy for Love.

Gods don’t understand a poet’s soul.