Currahee

Thought over so many things lately.

On the mountain i stand alone. When i fight, i fight alone. When i fall, i fall alone. When i die, i most probably die alone.

Sick and tired. And that's probably how i'm feeling now, every sense of it.

I don't think i can get up anymore.

Hélas

To drift with every passion till my soul

Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,

Is it for this that I have given away

Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?

Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll

Scrawled over on some boyish holiday

With idle songs for pipe and virelay,

Which do but mar the secret of the whole.

Surely there was a time I might have trod

The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance

Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God.

Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod

I did but touch the honey of romance

And must I lose a soul's inheritance?

-Oscar Wilde