Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
-William Shakespeare, Macbeth.
Farewells
I wish you all the greatest joy,
Yet within me feel sorrow.
As life plods on from day to day,
Tomorrow to tomorrow.
…
Endless days and endless nights,
As if time stands still.
I know not what is was we had,
I suppose I never will.
…
I wish you strength, I wish you well,
As you depart on your need.
"Nothing is true" as our Creed says,
Love is not the same as needs.
