Strolling all alone...across the ancient cemetery...-
tell me, isn't everthing here...of a timeless green?!
I see that
several visitors are also agthered here,
having an idle, little saunter on the old graveyard...just like me.
i keep a chandle
burning for myself so i won't feel all alone;
we should have done so, but we never celebrated anythin here at all.
A leaden
weariness creeps viscously like syrup down the hills,
felling everybody...as it crawls upon the monuments...-
only i escape its
power, for the moment seem immune;
yet, two eldery ladies, guarding the right, the future tomb
are scolding me, so filled with
anger, filled with envy and disdain:
"The dead are furios with you!
as you're wasting your precios time!"
Now there are faces
in the carpet, there are people living in the walls;
I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in the hours
before
dawn!"
These moments, fleeting as they are, they testify to us
they are the silent witnesses of a reason about to
pass;
I cannot but admit, carelessly ignoring life's finiteness,
that i am filled with fear and worry...and so much shame because of
this.
Well, everthing I see, yeas all the iomages are blurred,
it's hard to guess the future in the short-sighted world.
How
should this simple handicap be lightly well ignored,
considering the dreadful blindness with wich i have been born.
We should
have done so, but we never celebrated anything here at all;
I hear the dead are calling: "sadness lies in wait in the darkest
hours...
...right before the dawn!"
