In a message dated 7/16/2002 12:45:42 PM Central Daylight Time,
diocletian@visi.com writes:


> go into timelessness, where poems cannot
> hint, say, or promise anything, even themselves. the rest may be worth
> it, obviously i dont know what im writing.

An Invite, to Eternity
<A HREF="http://www.nth-dimension.co.uk/vl/author.asp?idI">John Clare</A>


Wilt thou go with me, sweet maid,
Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me
Through the valley-depths of shade,
Of night and dark obscurity;
Where the path has lost its way,
Where the sun forgets the day,
Where there's nor life nor light to see,
Sweet maiden, wilt thou go with me!

Where stones will turn to flooding streams,
Where plains will rise like ocean waves,
Where life will fade like visioned dreams
And mountains darken into caves,
Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me
Through this sad non-identity,
Where parents live and are forgot,
And sisters live and know us not!

Say, maiden; wilt thou go with me
In this strange death of life to be,
To live in death and be the same,
Without this life or home or name,
At once to be and not to be -
That was and is not -yet to see
Things pass like shadows, and the sky
Above, below, around us lie?


http://www.nth-dimension.co.uk/vl/poem.asp?id35