How quiet do I walk among the crowd,
To silence my existence pretension,
and speak of such posterity aloud,
of joyful days, children’s ways,
and tragic plays of passion.
Now peering deeply,
into darkest of night,
I find form in a chaos of feeling,
Dim lit by art’s anemic light,
Enabling a view in the silken silence,
Of my own life’s terminal flight!