I Can't Go On, Sigh Poem by James McLain James McLain

The stars are flint in a barren sky,
And every wind that passes by
Is only a whisper of goodbyes.

I've drunk the dusk, I've tasted pain,
The rose was ash, the song was rain,
And every touch has left a stain
That no new morning clears again.

I once believed in love like fire—
A golden thing, a high desire—
But now I walk through fields of wire
And dreamless sleep is all I hire.

Oh heart, poor fool, be still, be small,
Let silence be your final call—
For beauty weeps beneath it all
And I am tired, tired of the fall.

Sigh—what more is there to say?