To bed we go
To sleep or no,
Perchance to dream
Or merely seem
...
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There is a mysteriousness to this one, especially the two lines: And there is found / A hollow sound. Haunting. How many times one lies in the dark pondering the purpose. Wondering the reason. I truly like this poem R. G.
And all are left With nothing left But missing sun And little done.. fine reflection and rendition on futility. thank u dear poet. tony