Quicksand years

…from the quills of the dead white poets

Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)

Quicksand years that whirl me I know not wither,

Your schemes, politics, fail, lines give way, substances mock and elude me,

Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess’d soul, eludes not,

One’s-self must never give way – that is the final substance – that out of all is sure,

Out of politics, triumphs, battles, life, what at last finally remains?

When shows break up what but One’s-Self is sure?

About Paul Jacko

Jacko was born in Czechoslovakia not long before the communist putsch in February 1948. He studied industrial chemistry there and left in 1969 for Australia, where he became a lawyer and established his own practice. He has now retired and beside hunting, fishing, camping, prospecting and playing golf he amuses himself by writing.
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One Response to Quicksand years

  1. Aussie Bruce says:

    Is this supposed to be a hint to Abbott?

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