To have and to lose leaves memory;
To have not and lose—that is,
To lose without possessing,
To dream of possession and to lose,
To dream and lose the dream leaves you broken.
That is the danger of dreams.
A man can fall, rise, fall again
And conclude that he was born fallen
And wrong to have risen—
Or he can rise, taste the far-off sweetness on the wind,
And resolve to make it his.
The man reckons and elects.
Trapped between earth and sky
And fated to return one day to earth,
He chooses to hang suspended.
Turning his face to search the wind
For the sweet breath grown fresher
And more fragrant for its frequent absence,
The sweet breath that slips past
With every change of season,
With each unlatching of door and heart,
With each blue-eyed downcast glance,
Each nod of the golden head,
Each whispered word,
And knowing that a scent inhaled is not captured,
He raises his head and elects to live without memory.