Where the fire of our youth, the stretch
and yearning that inspired?
Where the dreams and ambitions
which unearthed our cherished selves?
Where the belief that all was possible,
anything reachable, to us
Despite the failure of former generations
we would rise, not Icarus
and be the sun not vanquished by it
Where the ardour, where the ire,
where the fire?
Just as bodies yield to entropy,
the universe to its own sweet death,
so age robs us of this passion
with every slowing reducing breath
Sinews that stretched beyond old limits,
races run for better times,
youthful folly, perhaps, but mighty
imagined mountains there to climb
Where the joy of just imagining,
where the hope that ignorance feeds?
Gone to dust now on the pyre
When we find we burn like others
and our hearts at last, prove liars
Where the fire?
(c) Helen Valentina 2013, All Rights Reserved