As it is

That which moves
Is seen as it is
Not strange but common

Fiery impulses sets in
Getting to the point
But missing the obvious

Later comes a time
But these hours are foul
Find that they fulfills

Passing near the flame
But not so strange
Claiming the necessary

Touch my sensible heart
Don’t deny the passing
Filth portrays silly motions

It moves of its own accord
Strange and uncommon
And splendid

Tell me softly
Your deepest wishes
Betray your secrecy

Embrace the passing
Impulses flickers
Common destinies intertwine

Set me apart
And contemplate my being
Find me strange

Missing the point
Going beyond the obvious
Testing the measures

Then to behold
In a defining vision
As it is

About Emil Hjort

Writer, poet and mysticist.
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