Oh inspired heart!
Oh measured mind!
Both have forsaken me.
Leaving in their stead
But a few Romantic words
Of waning mourning.
I cannot but look out upon my city
That once stirred great things in me
And now feel only self-pity
Over what things should but will never be.
For the time has passed me by
To move great mountains of men
With none but my words
And lift them to Victory.
The time has passed for allusion.
Days are now bathed
In the light of this day and none other
And we are left to scratch out
Amongst a myriad of worry
A torment of troubles
A rising tide of anger and resent
And that very worst of all, Routine.
Perhaps our knight will once again come riding
To alert us to the lurking villain
To slay the tedium that itself has slain inspiration.
Perhaps he shall claim us as his maiden
And ride off to foreign conquests in our name
Braving the ever-present threat
Of quietly passing away to obscurity while none watch.
Maybe these days, too, shall turn
Nights and winters, too, shall fade
New summers will bring new dreams
All at once the same as those we had passed
And drawn our soaring hopes from,
And all at once bearing the sign of Difference,
That great temptress of promise and hope
We once said that it was not for us to say
That the world would pass
Without paying us notice.
And in the face of this great Indifference
We swore against the world and to it
That we would be known
That we would change her
Whether the world wished it or not.
What happened to that inspired heart?
Is it laid in irons?
And that calculating mind,
Has it timed its exit?
There is, of course, time
As there always is
But she is no ally here
Too cold and indifferent to care
About the plight of mortality
About the scar of birth into a dying cage.