The bluish hours of forever days
Creep slowly by without the sun or moon,
Which, though obscured by an unyielding haze,
Seem non-existent. Days like this impugn
The honor of the world. No light, but day,
No honest darkness, but in theory night,
Nothing but a harsh, burning blue-gray
Interminable to the end of sight.
It might drive a man mad - I cannot tell
If it has made me so - it might as well,
For I am certain I will never leave,
Which makes this hell in a nutshell,
And yet I find, although I do believe
I cannot make my soul begin to grieve.
No comments:
Post a Comment