FAIR was the morning, fair our tempers, and
We had seen nothing fairer than that land,
Though strange, and the untrodden snow that made
Wild of the tame, casting out all that was
Not wild and rustic and old; and we were glad.
Fair, too, was afternoon, and first to pass
Were we that league of snow, next the north wind
There was nothing to return for, except need,
And yet we sang nor ever stopped for speed,
As we did often with the start behind.
Faster still strode we when we came in sight
Of the cold roofs where we must spend the night.
Happy we had not been there, nor could be.
Though we had tasted sleep and food and fellowship
Together long.
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
such troubled quiet
in a rose
how the held-up hands cry
what shall we do
I have given my life for nothing
to be flung down on a bed
Mr. Hater and I
go forth to the city
and get money by bringing
all business into our hands.
I walk in the park
giving light in my way,
which put me
into despair.
As the deadly breeze sweeps the Earth again,
as it sweeps and takes dear life away,
as I hear the breeze vanishing in thin air...
I'm lost.
I wouldn't say that I understand,
I wouldn't say that I feel the pain,
I wouldn't want to be another phony in the way,
Because I'm lost.
It seems as if the breeze holds me down,
it seems as if I'm bound,
it seems I can't move towards a helping arm...
I'm lost.
Please understand, I ask no more than this,
that I can't live, live with what keeps me tied up in knots,
with hurt and as others, with all due respect, live.
I don't understand how I feel,
Just when you think,
life couldn't get any worse,
you try to end it.
Just to be forced to breathe again.
I am tired,
not for lack of rest -
no, I slept quite well last night,
and I've had my coffee.
it's something deeper, something
inherently present, in the
fibres of my skin,
in my tendons, in my eyes.
I am exhausted,
fatigued by life,
by the noise and the silence,
the people, and
the empty rooms,
light and dark;
hope and
despair.
The wind whispers
Sweet nothings
In my ear
A silent lullaby
That wages on
Silent tears stream
Down my red cheeks
A reminder
Of the bloodshed
For a moment
Everything stops
And I hear
The wind whispering
Beckoning me
Into the storm
Silently, carefully
The Walls are shedding
They dispose of the lies and tears
The "no's" and the "you can't"s
Everything they've seen
Everything they've been a part of
I wish they could speak up
Because only The Walls know me
They were there for every broken heart
Every time I thought I couldn't go on
I still question even that
The Walls are melting
They can no longer withstand the pain
The pain that I feel everyday
As I struggle to sleep at night
And stay awake during the day
The Walls are gone
These are the seeds of the future,
The weary, the wretched, the slain.
These are the ghosts we shall harvest
In wars that shall come again.
These are the fields we have furrowed,
The dreams that have fallen apart,
And this is the plow of our madness,
The fear that has entered the heart.
Oh, how shall we welcome the reaper
When autumn shall fill the air,
When all the hope of the springtime
Is cut with the edge of despair?
I thought, as I drove
by the river's edge —
I might do better
by mistaking
this sharp curve.
Beyond the sleepy hills of Spain,
The sun goes down in yellow mist,
The sky is fresh with dewy stars
Above a sea of amethyst.
Yet in the city of my love
High noon burns all the heavens bare--
For him the happiness of light,
For me a delicate despair.