No Terminus Comments

find the cure within the disease, why not?

I like your poem. I just do not happen to agree. The meaning of life is definately discovered each moment of the journey, but some things are eternal. Wordsworth said it best for me in Ode On Intimations of Immortality. He says: Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting And cometh from afar; Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home:

Jul, you are reading my mind! It's like I was reading my own poem! .....

Right, I've now read all 7 of your postings, Julia, and I want more! ! !

Neat well crafted poem

But final terminus is grave, what sunk in ivy, green and grievous and neither love nor hate us save from reaching it on winter eve.