Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Dust 1943

“And then fate strikes us. First our joys decay...
We grow a little poorer day by day.
Old friendships falter. Loves grow strangely cold.
We doubt our strength, our wisdom and our gold.
We stand alone, as in a wilderness
Of doubts and terrors...
What sobs, what supplications, what wild tears;
What impotence of soul against despairs
Which blot out reason?”

(From “The Mockery of Life” by Wilfred Scawen Blunt. Very apt.)


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