I have no conversations with the dead Though their sweet departures linger long in me. The heart is filled with memories tonight And I, prevented from the world of sleep Meditate on beauty and on loss. For I am visionless, no voices hear Or chanting from the regions of the stars. Strangely I still weep, but not for those Who leaving found a peace escaping me, But for the distance put between myself (Undoubtedly desires small and great) And that for which I long yet do not know. This being buffeted by inner storms And conflicts that it has not overcome, The body weakened through the toll of years, The slow mind struggling still to learn The words that open spirit to its source. There lives in me a song of gratitude A knowledge that soul shall yet survive The shocks of time, the waste of wayward years Of self indulgence, sorrow and defeat, Aware that each has come here for a work Beyond the human scope, to reunite, Reweave the frayed and broken strands of life To an image of a new divinity.
Poems Undated (1727)
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