Joy and sorrow,
 Long days and longer nights,
 Left now as nothing
    but a memory.
 Can i grasp the essence
 Of that first innocent fall?
 Remember what seemed
    so clear,
    so timeless,
 Never to come again.
 And even those perfect glimpses
 Now just feeble reconstructions;
    what i remember i remember.

 In mimicry of Lethe
 Time washes over me,
 And i struggle
    to keep those lights of the past
 Flickering still.
 Do i 'Rage, rage against the dying of the light' (1)
 Or do i plunge
    candle into water
 And let the river take it all?

 The river is warm,
 The light is cold.
 The light brings pain
    as well as joy,
 The river, oblivion.
 My upraised arm falters.
 My grasp loosens. 

 1: Dylan Thomas, thanks Dan 

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Last edited February 22, 2004 0:39 (diff)