And when at last my light returns
What will I have learnt?
What twit, to who
Will I tell
This so pissed it's worth apologies?
What will I have learnt?
Not grace, but elegies
Not arias or dance or any arts
Worth students.
It will return,
At least the rudiments
A spark,
For fuel some foolish passion
Like dry grass.
But what of setting oak from dark.
Just a spark,
A spark
All that it can light is grass.
What passion could be gas
Or peat or coal,
Renew my soul,
Just sparks flying
And all so cold.
Where before a fire burned
I tire and I hurt
And if my light returns
What will I have learnt?
