november's year. what about october's decade ?
love's absence is illusion,alias time
(a shadowy hell whose inmates war to seize
each nothing which all greedy wraiths proclaim
substance;all frenzied spectres,happiness)
lovers alone wear sunlight. The whole truth
(not hid by matter;not by mind revealed)
which never was by any living death
or dying life(and never will be) told
sings only-and all lovers are the song.
Here(only here)is freedom;always here
no then of winter equals now of spring
but april's day transcends november's year
(eternity being so sans until,
twice i have lived forever in a smile)
E.E. Cummings