Mankind it seems is getting old, Maturing in the mind From Homo erectus to sapiens to civilis, Progressively refined.
The quintessence of dust we are, no doubt, But of manners too, if you please. Like a mist we cover the teeming earth, Or a cloud of golden bees
Or beads in a cloak of many colours Wrapped around the globe: Six billion individualities Brilliant in one robe.
Each like a little star we are, All bright and full of light And heat: as precious needle points In an embroidery of night.
Yet our light and heat are too intense; So we do not connect And cannot connect - like rays that Refract not but reflect.
The weave of ages wears too thin. When oneness of world should bind, we stars Like little suns stand apart and die apart, Venus forever at odds with Mars.
The triumphs of our ripening Well may make us proud; But ageing, failing, disintegrating, A cloak can become a shroud. |
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