Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d, Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me, Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined, The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Resembles Life what once was held of Light, Too ample in itself for human sight ? An absolute Self–an element ungrounded– All, that we see, all colours of all shade [Image]By encroach of darkness made ?– Is very life by consciousness unbounded ? And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath, A war-embrace of wrestling Life and Death ? – Samuel Taylor Coleridge # More at http://cumm.uk