hold my hand the torrent

No wishes granted. But I leave it To-morrow. Partial words come out of my mouth even though there is breath behind my words. By the way, I blog along with my wife, The Soz, who often takes to the skies. Better his end had been as the end of a cloudless day, Bright, by the word of Zeus, with a golden star, Wrought of a golden fame, and flung to the central sky, To gleam on a stormless tomb for evermore:— Whether or not there fell To the touch of an alien hand The sheen of his purple robe and the shine of his diadem, Better his end had been To die as an old man dies,— But the fates are ever the fates, and a crown ever a crown.

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