Rapt Futility

23 September 2023

Strange to sit here in the light
while all outside is bathed in night,
and strange to sit, and think, and write,
while others chase utility.

Had you expected something stern,
that each cold strophe would take its turn
in chains, for they are English-born
in rapt futility?

Surely one knows better now.
It doesn't matter anyhow.
The day that dawns awaits us,
and there are so many things to know.