George Gray

As many times before. When in doubt, the companionship of good book’s and long gone authors comforts me. Gives me a hint of the feelings I bear not being inhumane but inherited. Others have felt the same way and still lived on.

I have studied many times

The marble which was chiseled for me?

A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.

In truth it pictures not my destination

But my life.

For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;

Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;

Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.

Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.

And now I know that we must lift the sail

And catch the winds of destiny

Wherever they drive the boat.

To put meaning in one?s life may end in madness,

But life without meaning is the torture

Of restlessness and vague desire?

It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

(Edgar Lee Masters (1868?1950). Spoon River Anthology. 1916.)

Posted in Personligt, Urklipp at maj 9th, 2007. Trackback URI: trackback

No Responses to “George Gray”

Leave a Reply

XHTML: You can use these tags: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>