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Myself

by
 What, younger, felt
was possible, now knows
is not - but still
not chanted enough -

Walked by the sea,
unchanged in memory -
evening, as clouds
on the far-off rim

of water float,
pictures of time,
smoke, faintness -
still the dream.
I want, if older, still to know why, human, men and women are so torn, so lost, why hopes cannot find better world than this.
Shelley is dead and gone, who said, "Taught them not this - to know themselves; their might could not repress the mutiny within, And for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night Caught them ere evening .
.
.
"

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