Gone – are the illusions, the hopes, even the fears.
Gone into the night time – left in bed
To take their place, days, weeks, months, years
Of endless apathy. With nothing here
Of now. “Why! Why!” eternally when so well
We know the answer’s gone.
Gone with the birthdays,
Into the system we have made ourselves.
“If we had known” we cry “it would be different now”.
What price hindsight when now is so,
And all our efforts doomed to end
With sleep, perchance to bear another day
© EGB October 1970
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