|Eighteen has no answers but her own,
Intent on yielding nothing to despair.
Glad tidings, if they come, must come alone,
Having crossed the desert, bleak and bare.
There is no heaven suitable for hope,
Even in the ecstasy of dreams.
Each moment is more limited in scope,
Not one ounce more transcendent than it seems.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.