What Are We? Young Or New? We

Let Cloud Shapes Swarm, / Let Chaos Storm, / I Wait For Form.

A Diplomat Is A Man Who Always Remembers A Woman's Birthday But Never Remembers Her Age.

When The Spent Sun Throws Up Its Rays On Cloud And Goes Down Burning Into The Gulf Below, No Voice In Nature Is Heard To Cry Aloud At What Has Happened. Birds, At Least Must Know It Is The Change To Darkness In The Sky. Murmuring Something Quiet In Her Breast, One Bird Begins To Close A Faded Eye; Or Overtaken Too Far From His Nest, Hurrying Low Above The Grove, Some Waif Swoops Just In Time To His Remembered Tree. At Most He Thinks Or Twitters Softly, 'safe! Now Let The Night Be Dark For All Of Me. Let The Night Be Too Dark For Me To See Into The Future. Let What Will Be, Be.

And Were An Epitaph To Be My Story I'd Have A Short One Ready For My Own. I Would Have Written Of Me On My Stone: I Had A Lover's Quarrel With The World.

Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.