Tuesday, September 7

I Am



I am-yet what I am, none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:--
I am the self-consumer of my woes;--
The rise and vanish in oblivion’s host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes:--
And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise—
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems,
Even the dearest that I love the best
Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod,
A place where woman never smiled or wept,
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled were I lie,
The grass below—above, the vaulted sky

By John Clare 1793-1864

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

beautiful. Thanks for sharinThere are people in your life who really need you and are counting on you to be there for them, without judgment or expectations. When you show up for them - even when they don't show up for you in the same way - the Light will show up for you when you need it most.


Today, throw "what have you done for me lately" out the window. Be there, heart open, no questions asked.

your old friend, serendip

Twoshorties said...

Nice to have you back, old friend!