Yesterday: Oh groan, oh what droll and tasteless days these smearing passages of daily-nightly cycling have become. Painted gray and washed-out. What a bore. What a grand and unbecoming bore.
Today: Oh sweet detatchment, oh long and warming silence. What clouded and uncaring, lazing stories you become. Spin me a sweet web of borrowed times and nectar. What a sudden moment. What a still, sudden moment.
The rising sun at daybreak calls you up a higher-numbered year.
Child’s time and expansive chances fold up into a growing mind.
In just moments, it seems, the falling star of fate has futures sown.
So what have we to defend against the wind and the sands of time?
We have ourselves; we have each other. This of all should be most clear.
We have the love from blood and spirit, which to the other makes us bind
A promise of solidarity and courage, of brothers past blood to bone.
Change always comes, this you must know, but I have your back if you have mine.
