and the most demanding man
I have ever known. I knew at first
only the difficulty of his demand,
but now I know the fear in it.
He has been afraid always of the loss
of precious things. We live in time
as in hard rain, and have no shelter,
half hopeless in anxiety for the young,
half hopeless in compassion for the old.
The generations fail and we forget
what we were, and are. The earth,
even, is flowing away. And where
is the stay against indifference?
I know his fear now by my own.
Precious things are being lost.
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