It kind of sucks to have her so damn close
And not quite here. I know it's not her fault;
It's simply the effect of heavy, gross
Elements in fate, of the gestalt
Of ages, that insists on making her
Pass through but not come by. There is no way
No matter how much each of us prefer
That there should be, for her to come and stay:
She must go on, must endlessly pass through,
And nothing we can say will alter that.
It's times like this the sky appears like glue,
And everything casts shadows that are flat,
For nothing is quite right, and I can see
That knowledge in the world surrounding me.