Aggregation Of Life - Poem by Smoky Hoss
There's a finality to everything,
a melancholy-madness to it all;
The days are so recalcitrant,
like young lives and loves
of great promise, as we all are or were,
left only to finish living indifferently,
In 'Easy Rider' they begin the journey
in magic, 'Born To Be Wild'.
In the end, the magic dies,
and alas, so do they,
caustic-casualties burnt down to the finish
like a candle that has given all the light
it possibly can to the world,
and then simply ceases to be.
- - - - - - - - -
The God who is
not quite here, not quite there,
where resides He?
And I so simple,
nothing at all,
who am I?
and the dirt it stirs...
together, make the entire world.
'And the sun goes down in waves of ether
in such a way that I can't tell
if the day is ending, or the world,
or if the secret of secrets is within me again.'
- from: 'On the Road' by Anna Akhmatova
as translated from the Russian by Jane Kenyon.
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