I'm not exactly sure as to why I'm posting this, I guess to share the experience of something touching me. At age 59 I recently divorced my wife and left the California coast, where I had spent my entire life. Tired of the rudeness that had seemed to have taken over people, the wacky politics, and the seemingly ever-present fog, I've recently settled, perhaps that's too strong a word, in Nevada. This evening I went to the library near closing time, to pick up some light reading, and came home and opened one of the books. There was a foreward to the book that was an excerpt from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "The Dreamer",
"I am losing the light of my youth,
And the Vision that led me of old,
And I clash with an iron Truth,
When I make for an Age of gold.
And I would that my race were run;
For teeming with liars, and madmen and knaves,
And wearied of Autocrats, Anarchs, and Slaves,
And darken'd with doubts of a Faith that saves,
And crimson with battles, and hollow with graves,
To the wail of my winds, and the moan of my waves
I whirl, and follow the sun.
(The Earth, speaking to the aging poet)
I'm not a poet, but he spoke to me.
Merritt |
