There Is No Spoon (or Tacks, Splinters and Bare Places)

Frost: “Whose woods these are, I think I know…”
Marvell: “Had we but world enough and time…”

Child Bending Spoons: “That’s impossible. Instead only try to realize the truth:”

There Is No Spoon (or Tacks, Splinters and Bare Places)

Sometimes I pause upon the stair
I face a life that isn’t there
Its ruins haunt me every day

I wish I wish they’d go away

When I descend from Work at three
The stillness lies in wait for me
Its gloomy remnants, grim and tall,

inscribed on every standing wall

Give me my life, and if not so

Give me my death, and let me go

A landing on a wood-worn stair
‘tween Fate and Choice; why should they care?
Go up to Work, come down to Play
But pause to Dance the macabre

 

The original poem is by a man named William Hughes Mearns and is called “Antigonish.” The name of a town in Nova Scotia, the word Antigonish, Wikipedia reports, “is of Mi’kmaq origin, possibly derived from Nalegitkoonecht meaning “where branches are torn off”. And the poem was inspired by rumors of a ghost man in said town.

And here is more about the Dance of Death, which I first learned about in The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman.

 

via Daily Prompt: Unravel

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