more than Camelot
(31 December)

I tend to think
at
this moment
the long moment of the final day
of
Tennyson
(yes
Tennyson)
who has the last of Camelot
fallen
surrendered by Excalibur
the end of the year
with
the last
knight on the last steed
without a castle
or
a realm
riding into what is timed as the first day
of the new year

meaning
a new age
perforce
Tennyson’s own age
perhaps
our own
modern age
in which we must live

with machines
ending relationships
empire without nobility
but
greed to drive itself
and we are left
without
romance except nostalgia
of a time
we cannot know

and
so
happy new year
and that’s
all
and isn’t all

we are driven by sensation
cast in ego and in
vanity
it’s true
but
that’s nowhere near
the all that is

since we can do better
choose better
and
that’s it
that’s all if by capacity
somewhat relative

we decide how
we will be
and could we do better than
the phenomenon of resolutions
interesting to voice
and
then inevitable to fail
by
forgetting
and who knows might be forgettable
rather than making calls
for the day
for today
for now

and we could
through better means
re-understand sensation
ego
vanity
as good and even needul things
parts
of us
and choices
too

though except in urgent moments
consider
safe
consider health
consider love

and
yes
in taking such stands
consider what we stand against
the machines of vaingloriousness
that
influence
and keep a bodyguard of lies
enforcing

working inside-out
the cause that cannot last
the hypocrisies
that
will be exposed as crimes
or simple folly
to have followed

we can do better
should
do better
consider what is small
free
to do
say
in deciding love
then go from there

into the year

c l couch


(started with Idylls of the King by Alfred, Lord Tennyson)

photo by Godz1 on Unsplash