The Lone Man


Detail from "Nighthawks" by Hopper

by Frank Thomas Smith

 

����������� Now is today,

����������� which will be

����������� yesterday,

����������� and was once

����������� tomorrow.

 

����������� Render time as you would

����������� a bouquet of roses to your love.

����������� They,

����������� like all the beauties of the world,

����������� will,

����������� quicker than a lie,

����������� whimper and die.

 

����������� They lived for a time,

����������� an eternal instant,

����������� a touchdown eternity.

 

����������� The earth is made

����������� of flecks of matter,

����������� lovingly crafted

����������� and joined to form

����������� a solid living mass

����������� on which we stride

����������� the day long in light,

����������� on which we lay our heads

����������� when the night spreads

����������� its dark quilt upon

����������� our shivering bodies.

 

����������� The lone man

����������� is more alone

����������� than any finite star

����������� He shivers despite the quilt

����������� and the raging fire he has built.

 

����������� Warmth can come, though,

����������� from a southern breeze:

 

����������� the heart's breath.

 

����������� No Warmth can come

����������� from northern gales:

����������� the head's details.

 

����������� Embrace the breath and taste its warmth.

����������� Then will the morning cool

����������� spring from your loins like a lamb.

 

����������� Keep faith with the burning tiger

����������� in the jungle's dark silent breath

����������� till endless time whistles death.

 


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