What life is before me as it stands

To day as I am in England,
my tabula rasa with its,
impeccable English language,
with many forms, portrayals,

meagre denials, as it appears
to my perceived eyes,
no raining today, no biting chill,
as I browse, the sun beams

straight on my face,
from tender to dazzling,
as if to scrutinize my heart,
the vast expanse of sky,

in front of my spacious library,
I ponder, the magnificent silence,
as if the expanding dawn, preaches,
why life contractd by man's narrow

vision, why so much of parochialism?
where man is landing,
man is loosing grip of life,
life in its glowing embers,
he converts into a contracted tube

of confusion, still, the sun beams
expand, making a mockery of his
predicament, I only heave a sigh of pity.