WHAT I THOUGHT I'D SAY

WHAT I THOUGHT I’D SAY

 I have lost my passion: why should I need to keep it
Since what is kept must be adulterated?—T.S. Eliot, Gerontion


 What could I tell you after all that was said?
 Nothing could be taken back, nothing offered.
 The passion I thought I had is an old saw---
 It would not, could not cut through the years
 That have turned into whorled cores in a tree
 Cut down in the harvest of logs, a clearing
 That will not grow again. Will not be here again.
 Dry timber in a forest fire.


—Albert B. Casuga
 07-25-12