| Descartes on the lost art of change |
|
| They fear their own flight -- |
| Squeezed between hard reason |
| and uncertain circumstance |
| rush gales of forced changes |
| that fling them, unwilling, aloft |
| as they cling, still, |
| to the strings they thought they once held. |
|
| Regrets, and the melancholy |
| of unfulfilled wishes |
| won't change a horizon's clear silence, |
| no matter the rise and thin fall of our
structures. |
| Worn smooth by their lives' passing events |
| they form matte artifacts, eloquent silence, |
| in the art of suffering. |
|
| © Jon Bohrn (2000) |
