Paradise (pt.7)

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And Ezra, become an old man,
Having been born out of his time, although
born neither too late
nor too early;
And had not charity, although
charity was not the quality he was wanting of…

Become old, an old man in an old city,
the old city lapped by the sea;
Speaking not, not writing,
excepting only fragments,
shards of his thought,

poetry of old age,
old age and ruin.

“The world is not as we would have it
but as we have made it.”

 

 

Image: The Ezra Pound door, by Flickr user Margie & James, published under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC 2.0) license.

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