(A sonnet)
Implanted implications, far from fact,
Ignoring time, insouciance reins rage,
A slamming gate to time with tempered tact.
I use the stairs, ignoring stares, and live
As if ne'er stagnant stars no longer moved
And guileless Time has stopped, no more to give,
Its tireless thrusts parlayed, with pretense soothed.
It matters not what furrows foul my face,
My soul and mind are timeless, bristly beasts,
That earthbound calendars do not embrace,
While dwelling upon death and age as feasts.
I am. In some form, I shall always be.
Yet Chronos cowers while plotting plans for me.
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
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