Tuesday, January 05, 2010

THE END OF IT

By time that swept us to this edge,
Consider movement, moment, place;
By what is strong in each of us,
Observe the weakness in each face.

By what was young in springtime,
Let winter be no worse than this:
That we are worn by hardness
And buried like the rest.


rcs.

Current draft created on 2/8/2003 7:20 PM
©1980 Ronald C. Southern

This esoteric conceit clumsily conceived by Ron Southern at 3:40 PM
Labels:

No comments:

Post a Comment

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)