(09/17/1944) The Cynic

The Cynic
The passions of my youth have burned me dry
And unrequited dreams stand in my eyes.
They were my hopes, and now they ill disguise
My futile gesturings. They pass me by.

I would admit no mystery so high
As to be sacred from my questing pries,
Nor would I seek defeat in compromise
But stood athwart the sky-winds; such was I.

The bright-eyed dreams of youth are dead and gone,
My destiny is done, my die is cast.
Perhaps there will be surcease with the dawn;

Perhaps, but I have thought that in the past.
The wheeling universe grinds on and on
Insensible, insatiate, and vast.

— Grady Louis McMurtry

Note: Originally published in Thelema Lodge Calendar, December 1995.