I’m so tired and all I want to do is sleep.  It’s been my experience that this kind of exhaustion is a sign of depression.  Not surprisingly, I’m enjoying Poe’s darkness these days-- it matches my own bleak soul.  Not to worry, I’ll snap out of it.  Poe, however, is forever entombed in his mournful melancholy.

A Dream

In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth’s day-star?

--Edgar Allen Poe (1827)

Posted by Kristina in Writing at 09:37 PM Permalink