“Children picking up our bones

Will never know that these were once

As quick as foxes on the hill;

                                ….Children,

Still weaving budded aureoles,

Will speak our speech and never know.”

– Wallace Stevens, ‘A Postcard from the Volcano.’

 

 

~

Farewell to the ocean,

the California sun.

 

Goodbye to great notions

thought of  while young.

 

So long, sine qua non,

adieu every one.

 

The sui generis

that won’t be again.

 

What once was,  now is,

and goes on, anon.

 

Farewell to the mystery

that life would not end.

 

So long, to the succor

it somewhere begins.

….

 

One cannot help

but wonder    just how?

 

Oh well,  what the Hell –

It’s all over now.

 

What once was important,

but not it is not –

 

The sunlight aslant,

a clever bon mot….

 

Oh well.  It was swell,

for the time that we thought.

 

What once was significant

is all but forgot.

 

Sic semper las vidas.

So long, the whole lot.

~

 

 

 

©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

31 August 2013/Revised 1 September 2013

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