To mourn the death of 2010
and to greet the birth of 2011
I feel like going first to
Edgar Allan Poe,
and then to Percy Bishe Shelley.
Here is how Poe felt about life:
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore.
I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
As I weep, as I weep.
Oh God can I not clasp
It in a tighter grasp ?
Oh God can I not save
It from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
And here is Shelley’s message of hope.
Trumpet of prophecy O wind
If winter comes,
Can spring be for behind?
Happy new year dear readers.
But hasn’t God willed us to earn our happiness?
01-01-2011
