Bloem: 'De Gelatene' - 'The Stoic'

THE STOIC

The window open, I grant autumn passage -

The inexpressible, that as of old

And still the same. My one desire, all told,

Is this: to always love its message.

This life held little to be won in store.

It does not matter now. Defence is vain

If one considers all the world-old pain

Of countless billions who have gone before.

Youth is all restlessness and a bemused

Great yearning to have loved ones time can’t best –

And loneliness a source of loss, a curse.

All that is past, and life is almost used.

In solitude the heart can now find rest.

And then: one’s life could well have been much worse.