Laying down my book I turned to thought
And thought can be a poor companion,
A gullible electric ghost
Hiding in a thunderstorm,
Now shaken with nostalgia for a stranger's past,
Now believing comparison to be possible,
Now staggering in dark places lit only
By the fitful glare of fantasy,
Now trembling at the deeps of ignorance and death.
Wings of song with leaden boots
And yet……
Stewart McKenzie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/x-diary-08-i-thought-so/
