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This Season My Life
This Season, My Life
I live my life alone, for what peace may be therein.
Let all the world agape, and wonder how he lived so strange,
How that he lived so long a life, his words not understood.
Gaze on fair world, and know me not,
You shall not know me still.
For in this world of facial sign,
I brood, and love, and live.
And days are long, and days are short,
And life for all is but a flower.
I, thus, behold myself as one amongst a field,
So varied and mixed, I cannot know
Save few of them, if any.
So many, and yet, so all alone,
I content myself with budding, blooming, dying and falling,
All in a season’s breath
All in a season’s loneliness.
Brian Gray March 9, 1976 9:30 a.m.