Alas, I can't. My adversary's gone. She's better things to do than bandy rhyme With plebs like me. I've trespassed on her time Enough, I think; but how can I go on?
My mill lacks grist; one cog cannot engage; It twizzles blindly till the bearings smoke. To say I'd won would be a hollow joke, So this will be the last verse on this page.
The question--soul, or none--stands unresolved. I still believe some such thing must exist, For every tale needs a protagonist Through whom the audience may get involved.
But who then is the audience? Don't ask me; That answer's not in my philosophy.
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2011-03-20 12:30 pm (UTC)She's better things to do than bandy rhyme
With plebs like me. I've trespassed on her time
Enough, I think; but how can I go on?
My mill lacks grist; one cog cannot engage;
It twizzles blindly till the bearings smoke.
To say I'd won would be a hollow joke,
So this will be the last verse on this page.
The question--soul, or none--stands unresolved.
I still believe some such thing must exist,
For every tale needs a protagonist
Through whom the audience may get involved.
But who then is the audience? Don't ask me;
That answer's not in my philosophy.