despair.

you came,
wearisome and weather-beaten
bringing gifts, oh shroud of despair,
Pandora’s treasures released,
i called you not, but you came.

do you know how wanton comes despair
for it gives us sepulchral rites
where once we knew only Eden,
now the fruits of despair colour our world
giving life to art and music, despair you came.

to know only happiness is to lock the shutters.
to blind the eyes and live in a fools paradise.

as the instruments of warmongers kill our children,
kill our homelands, and kill our gardens,
it is happening and yet do we meekly tend to trivia
yes and no, we do what we can, we praise despair
while living with hope in our hearts, yes and no,

we paint the pictures of horror in the optimism..
we resonate on a silent ship of sorrow in hope..

you came,
wearisome and weather-beaten
bringing gifts oh shroud of despair,
Pandora’s treasures released,
i called you not, but you came.

greg.

The depth of our despair measures what capability and height of claim we have to hope.
Thomas Carlyle

i called you not, but you came......

CHILLING!

Great one Greg!

This is great, Cousin, and sharply insightful. I agree with our guest; that quoted line truly is chilling in the best possible way: chillingly cool. The repeated lines make a hauntingly beautiful refrain.

I like these quotations you have been adding at the end lately too; they are always just right. I had never seen the Carlyle before, but it was just what I needed, as was the poem itself. Thanks for this "word in season."

I love the way you think, and the way you express your insights in your poetry. You and I are poetic cousins too.

Respect and solidarity,

Cousin +Stevie