I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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If I In My Unnumbered Years Should Fail

If I in my unnumbered years should fail

To register or comprehend the breath

Of age that blows in gusts upon my back,

Then keep from me the secrets that remain

In death until such time as I recall

This moment that in ignorance I asked

That I might see the place where only moons

May walk their measured tread about the sky

That, tilting, forms an aisle around a sun

Whose endless oscillations dictate time.


Whose endless oscillations dictate time

To those who must obey Apollo’s slave;

While we that die below this falling night

Swollen with the weight of growing years,

Await the template our design must twin.

And yet, instinctive, still I know my cause,

Some slighted sense of destiny remains;

Shallow depths of a distance not remarked

Since naked swam the sun within its womb

And I was nothing more than idle thought.


And I was nothing more than idle thought

Between the observations of the eye

Above the earth than synchronises life.

This, they alone who knew the secrets know,

Yet will not under weight of words confess,

The steady progress of the current clime

Deftly hides the primitive nerve of steel

Which I in my heroic light shall wield

To counter-balance that which would prevail

If I in my unnumbered years should fail.