To stumble with dazzled acquiescence
Into the full light of the world
Is pain indeed!
The mind recoils,
Spins colored webs of comfort,
Insubstantial as promises,
Or from the refuge of indignation
Seeks angrily for a cause.
That I should, or cannot,
Means only I am as I was.
Who can foresee?
But it is nice to think
That the dinosaurs took to the air.
Nothing is wasted.
Stewart McKenzie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/x-diary-04-time-s-up/
