KE®AAH OA
CAREY STREET
When NOTHING became conscious, it made
a bad bargain.
This consciousness acquired individuality: a
worse bargain.
The Hermit asked for love; worst bargain of
all.
And now he has let his girl go to America, to
have ‘“‘success” in “‘life’’: blank loss.
Is there no end to this immortal ache
That haunts me, haunts me sleeping or awake?
If I had Laylah, how could I forget
Time, Age, and Death? Insufferable fret!
Were I an hermit, how could I support
The pain of consciousness, the curse of
thought?
Even were I THAT, there still were
one sore spot—
The Abyss that stretches between THAT
and NOT.
Still, the first step is not so far away:—