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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=509094" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Old Man’s Dream After He Died</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=509094" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">from CAWDOR<br>Gently with delicate mindless fingers<br>Decomposition began to pick and caress the unstable chemistry<br>Of the cells of the brain; Oh very gently, as the first weak breath<br>of wind in a wood: the storm is still far,<br>The leaves are stirred faintly to a gentle whispering: the nerve-cells,<br>by what would soon destroy them, were stirred<br>To a gentle whispering. Or one might say the brain began to<br>glow, with its own light, in the starless<br>Darkness under the dead bone sky; like bits of rotting wood on<br>the floor of the night forest<br>Warm rains have soaked, you see them beside the path shine like<br>vague eyes. So gently the dead man's brain<br>Glowing by itself made and enjoyed its dream.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=509094" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The nights of many<br>years before this time<br>He had been dreaming the sweetness of death, as a starved man<br>dreams bread, but now decomposition<br>Reversed the chemistry; who had adored in sleep under so many<br>disguises the dark redeemer<br>In death across a thousand metaphors of form and action celebrated<br>life. Whatever he had wanted<br>To do or become was now accomplished, each bud that had been<br>nipped and fallen grew out to a branch,<br>Sparks of desire forty years quenched flamed up fulfilment.<br>Out of time, undistracted by the nudging pulse-beat, perfectly<br>real to itself being insulated<br>From all touch of reality the dream triumphed, building from<br>past experience present paradise<br>More intense as the decay quickened, but ever more primitive<br>as it proceeded, until the ecstasy<br>Soared through a flighty carnival of wines and women to the<br>simple delight of eating flesh, and tended<br>Even higher, to an unconditional delight. But then the interconnections<br>between the groups of the brain<br>Failing, the dreamer and the dream split into multitude. Soon the<br>altered cells became unfit to express<br>Any human or at all describable form of consciousness.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=509094" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Pain and<br>pleasure are not to be thought<br>Important enough to require balancing: these flashes of pos-tmortal<br>felicity by mindless decay<br>Played on the breaking harp by no means countervalued the excess<br>of previous pain. Such discords<br>In the passionate terms of human experience are not resolved,<br>nor worth it.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Robinson+Jeffers">Robinson Jeffers</a></strong></div>