Enigma

It's but the twist of nature's irony,
That casts men's molds in vari-colored sizes,
In all the shapes and forms and peculiarities
Which one surmises.

Me thinks, at times, I meet a man,
Whose nature seems to me so well defined,
But upon closer scrutiny,
His very being seems a different kind.

Men are like icebergs,
A fraction on the top is visible and clear,
But underneath the waterline there is so much
That to the naked eye does not appear.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2005 Alfred Charasz