Here and there and everywhere I am
On a night like many others regretfully
No admit it gladly
Giddily putting aside the future with its regrettings and requirings
And the past with its lessonings
Soon I know that it will be
Morning birds sing and dawn is pure reprimand
But so lovely still and dread
I will stop time without stopping these rather foolish actions
I will make cease to be what is outside and bitter
I will seize my desire whirling
and diverge into the possible.

J. Horne