It does not matter any more
When the moments decide to glide
With serpentine slimy turns,
Hoping to surprise with abrupt dropping
Of incoherent absurd masks, and
Almost juvenile joy at gawking sores --
Infesting the maddening frenzied mass.
Sparkling conscious shards of knowledge
Emerging from the shattered years
Of privations, uprise, smothered ideals
in disillusioned eyes and crouching fear,
Have pierced the certain and secure nights;
And now what remains is a fragmentary
Vision of tranquil still twilight.