© Charles E. Corry 1962, 1999

If time should have no end,

And this emptiness continue,

What use then will be my reasons?

Standing, an empty pool,

No mind.


If again, in my solitude

I should find you,

Will this then begin anew?

Or will I reach escape?



Sad hangs my twin head.

Where gone the shrapnel

Of the shell surrounding us?

Where now, I?



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