I planned to do so many things ... Nothing has been achieved yet, nothing has been seeded. A sense of getting old and incapable of creating anything new grows day by day. The days pass by doing mundane works. All quiet on all fronts. No new light, no new shine, no new hope.
Is it summer that makes me sad? Its summer with occasional surprising rain, reminds me
"Summer surprised us, coming over the StarnbergerseeAm I like the Fisher King in his Waste Land - impotent yet hopeful of contributing and proudly protecting futile legends?
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour." ...
1 comment:
Ah! The Waste Land...And I read this post on a rainy summer day...
But Eliot indeed is a legend..."bang" and "whimper" combined!
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