Not death - no poem's yet been writ
on that - but that dark door and passage
where everything, all that one knows of life
must be surrendered, in the service
...
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I don't know whether I should tremble in fear at 'this timeless, darkest, hopelost, night of soul, ' or rejoice in the fact that I believe there is a light, just on the other side of this darkness...O. K., I have decided to rejoice, because I DO believe... This is sheer poetry, beautiful in its darkness....
I suspect that there are all too many on here who can relate... tis a work of art M, a passionately appreciative observational atmospheric work of art... but then you knew that anyway. t x