WAITING FOR CHARON

Waiting for Charon, looking back on figures
Crowding the world still, I stand dismayed.
Who are these who are now escaping the lures
Of what seemed worth while once, though since decayed?

Where was reality, in tissue-thin
Shadows or less than shadows which they saw
Once as the meat of life? Could it be in
The amber of the flesh, or in the raw

Spirit inhabiting that tiny space
Fixed by a name to be unfixed by time?
In the fair face of nature, or a grace
Not to be burnt away by any quick-lime?

It was not known. What is? We pass away
Through seen to unseen, through the flaming crowd
Claiming to live, bright in the light of day
...