Poems, essays, and other writings by eric bleys

The Measures of Time

The trouble of my mind

Is when I have discovered,

That the dance eternal no longer has weight.

And the measures of time no longer have form. 


For I contemplate beauty in the morning flower,

But the image here no longer is so clear. 

Like hazy lights in the early blue dawn, 

Is the great new land of the mysterious delight. 


And in seeing my limitations I know that I am human.

For dust and ashes are the carvings of my flesh. 

And in the foamy lights of the ocean water, 

I see that love is many and that knowledge is uncommon.



The Strongest of Men

When all the White Flowers Turn Red