The Ascetic

Creative Writing

Margaret Delashmit, Guest Contributor

(Written after reading Herman Hesse’s The Steppenwolf)

I tasted life once

Sipped its nectar from golden goblet

held by human hand

Laughed when bubbles ticked my nose

swirling to the surface breaking with briskness

Felt its warmth envelop and invigorate

signaling active command to every gland

Watched its hazy hue radiate

forming an aura of quivering quickness

Smelled its spicy aromatic breath

seeking every secret desire suppressed

Heard its potpourri of promises undulating

swaying within reach–if I but reached—

Counted the cost—I could not stay—

Retreated to the safety of vicariousness.



Leave a Reply