1975-10-30

           An old man at twenty-eight
           is how I feel sometimes
           out of ideals and things worth doing
           some deluded dreamer drifting
           on the backwash of grace.
           A grace which forever dries, as I approach the source.
           Too frail to take life by storm
           and too strong to let it pass quietly
           I'm forever in the jangle space
           between senselessness
           and my longing for purpose.
           And to the end of logic and back
           many times I've been...
           pressed against the mirror of faith there
           I've seen, too often, nothing but my own eyes
           staring back.
                                    gallagher
                                    30 Oct 75

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

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