* * * by George Right (from the novel "The Wings") Yet the grayest of skies can be hardly compared to land, Yet the dullest of lives gives a lot of occasions for worry. On a threshold you'd better remember this ere you wend As the way to the glory can end being deadly and gory. But some curious strangers will come and unsettle your peace By a prospect of heights and horizons of wondrous attraction And will tell of the ones who had stood over star-studded seas Contemplating the process of light-through-a-crystal refraction. And the people like you, poisoned by that venomous delight, Leave your home and wander to countries which nobody knows, Fearing neither the coldness of misty and lingering night, Nor untrod heavy pathways, nor deserts, nor showers and snows. Many will be slain by ruthless sword in pursuit of a dream (Only blood can complete sharpened iron to final perfection). Through your frozen-up tears you keep following a stellar beam Contemplating the process of light-through-a-crystal refraction. In the midst of bleak bogs, in a craggy inanimate maze, Under baleful cliffs hanging over like menacing warning You'll lose count of days, you will even forget what you chase, Curse your journey, but it is already too late for returning. Those who led you to heights disappeared in dawn's foggy cold - Either died, or retired, or just grew too weary for action... You are plodding through a dried and ancient as boredom world Contemplating the process of light-through-a-crystal refraction. You will age in this maddening travel, but, wasted and stark, You will finish the way - which was vain, and you will understand it: Life is mould and filth, only coldness and star-studded dark Were your aim, so perfect and so everlastingly splendid. You will finish your way just to see: all the others are gone - Those before sank in night, those behind lagged without direction, And forever you will stay among gleamy ice, all alone, Contemplating the process of light-through-a-crystal refraction.
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