“-I’m sorry,” Jacob interrupted, “But you said this was a poem?”
“Yes.”
“Why doesn’t it rhyme?” Jacob hadn’t had an illustrious background in literature.
“Poems don’t need to rhyme.”
“Ah. It is beautiful, nonetheless.”
“Shall I continue?” Daniel asked.
“You shall.”
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never
forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
The word “creeds” caught Jacob’s attention, reminding him of his own creed. He didn’t understand this poem, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed hearing Daniel read it.
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are
crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.