I have tried to live my life each moment,
Let my imagination run its course;
and sought for truth, to find it, not to own it,
or make it fit my notions using force.
But there are times when I am sorely tested
By things as they appear, or seem to be;
And often my illusions are unwrested
In senseless struggles with reality.
The vain and pompous notions of my childhood
(and who has not had several score of these?)
have each been shattered – neither bad nor good,
but simple fact – and scattered to the breeze.
And now, I find that each small fragment lingers;
The dust of dreams that stains the poet’s fingers.
10 MAR 2004
