In the dead of the night
I felt a futile sense of fight
Socrates took poison in chalice
source of malice?
In the dream I saw my friend
His book
I lacked courage?
Or sense of rage?
Like a miser was I
In time. money and energy
I saved when I had to spend
I dithered When I needed to love
Slept when needed to remain awakened
died when I had to live
Like a poet longing for a dream
in fact faced dawn
of disappointment.
I remembered
Tagore’s poem
Of one who sowed the seeds
Regretted the time lost
Then awoke to find buds
Blossoming into flowers.
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