IN A BLESSED AGE

The ancient calamity of the relationships that can be made on earth, The torment of all torments and shrinks me further! Often the consolation of new-sweet saintly-misses is of no help, if they reward for little trifles! No more need of the temporary possibility of continuation: cheap promises, false hopes! I should erase from my past the cursed minutes of my past, and what bleeds me daily! In the catacombs of my unhappy mind, I would in vain forget, The smelling filth soon accumulates! 

On the infinite wall, once more, it would be well if a tiny, tiny crack could be found! Vain, obstinate epochs of defiance keep their hold upon their own! - Our disconnected, socially-hybernated senses may say otherwise; as if everyone else existed here in a dim, transcendent dimming! As now Celebrity dames, disowned seventh-coast V.I.P. faces parade in their every movement, playing the self-deception of calculation, and the unhappiest among them, who bathes in the radiant optimism of his being! 

He who deceives himself with the antidote of consoling lies, Seldom receives from his inner self the redeeming message, That from the sincerity of his soul he has lost the known Essence! Were we to walk the sure path-way of things' definite, predictable emotions, and see in their context the beaded holy-eyes of others, we would be the embodiment of a hard, earthly Golgotha! - All farewells are now the stylist's made-up veneer of faces: long since run out from under them Executioner-plagued Time! Seldom can a change of age mark a sure bet!