Thursday, December 25, 2008

Do not let me Burn Idly by

(If we must burn in time, let us light the world with our final breaths)

I wish the same for you, my dear reader, as I wish for all the people of my generation.

I wish for the lifting of the great plague that has come upon my generation and possibly future posterity.

I ask that time not burn us, while we sit idly by. That if we must go, we go in a blaze of light that forever comforts the world.

Make 2009 the awakening of my generation and let it actualize all teenagers into young adults.

The poem that inspired me to write this post:

Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day
by Delmore Schwartz

Calmly we walk through this April's day,
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
In the park sit pauper and rentier,
The screaming children, the motor-car
Fugitive about us, running away,
Between the worker and the millionaire
Number provides all distances,
It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now,
Many great dears are taken away,
What will become of you and me
(This is the school in which we learn...)
Besides the photo and the memory?
(...that time is the fire in which we burn.)

(This is the school in which we learn...)
What is the self amid this blaze?
What am I now that I was then
Which I shall suffer and act again,
The theodicy I wrote in my high school days
Restored all life from infancy,
The children shouting are bright as they run
(This is the school in which they learn...)
Ravished entirely in their passing play!
(...that time is the fire in which they burn.)

Avid its rush, that reeling blaze!
Where is my father and Eleanor?
Not where are they now, dead seven years,
But what they were then?
No more? No more?
From Nineteen-Fourteen to the present day,
Bert Spira and Rhoda consume, consume
Not where they are now (where are they now?)
But what they were then, both beautiful;

Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.

A final plea, and 3 small quotes, by yours truly

Let not another moment go by, without our fullest potential being set into motion.

1) There were always better days, but time goes forward, and death never strays.

2) Into light we hope our deeds should turn, once time has run out, and our lives have been burned.

3) Remember death with every waking breath.


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