Poem Faithful to your commands, o consciousness, o <br /> <br />Beating wings, I studied <br /> <br />the roses and the muses of reality, <br /> <br />the deceptions and the deceptive elation of the redness of the growing morning, <br /> <br />and all the greened and thomed variety of the vines of error, which begin by promising <br /> <br />Everything and more than everything, and then suddenly, <br /> <br />At the height of noon seem to rise to the peak or dune-like moon of no return <br /> <br />So that everything is or seems to have become nothing, or of no genuine importance: <br /> <br />And it is not that the departure of hope or its sleep has made it inconceivable <br /> <br />That anything should be or should have been important: <br /> <br />It is the belief that hope itself was not, from the beginning, <br />before believing, the most important of all beliefs.<br /><br />Delmore Schwartz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-faithful-to-your-commands-o-consciousness/
