betsy@dartvax.UUCP (09/29/83)
News from the Sibyl Nothing that's made beneath the jealous moon, She said, is free from every seam and strain. Who hunts his dreams must always waken soon To find his shaft has fallen short again. You find this new? It's older than the day The warlike Persian tore his heart to find He'd conquered every islet, stream, and bay Which man had seen. How could he force his mind To grapple with his lifelong battle's end When he had never wanted what he'd won? The struggle, not the goal, had been his friend. How could he call this misformed monster 'son'? It must be so. For every dream you snare And risk your soul to hold the thing complete You'll watch its essence melt into the air And leave but shattered remnants at your feet. Yet you must try. But keep this understood: The best you make must yet be less than good.