...when that one famous poet

wrote that particular famous poem--

the one about dying of lights--

i think his frantic brain

was on the shore

watching the sun set...

he must have-

with his metaphorical mind-

been regarding the sun

sink below the water...

how swift it happens-

he must have thought--

how quickly it all goes...

and by it- i mean-- of course--

not the sun

with its dying glow-

but life-

with its crying infants

turned old

in a wind blow...

so continue to rage against that death-

that death of ever circularity...

A bit morbid...