Valentine Wolfe
Valentine Wolfe



The shadowed window pane 
Offers a ghostly glimpse 
Into your paradise 
Of domestic bliss 
Where is my place in this? 
No hearth to call my own 
No home to rest my head 
I have no friend 

“We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep. 
We rise; one wandering thought pollutes the day. 
We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep, 
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away 
It is the same; for, be it joy or sorrow 
The path of its departure still is free. 
Man’s yesterday may never be like his tomorrow, 
Naught may endure but mutability.” 

An endless wanderer 
Upon this land 
A Maker’s thoughtless touch 
Why am I so alone? 
You never stooped so low 
To chase away my fears 
To ease the banishment 
My tears must burn with rage

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