Young Lord Byron (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Lines Inscribed Upon a Cup Formed from a Skull

Start not-nor deem my spirit fled:
In me behold the only skull
From which, unlike a living head,
Whatever flows is never dull.

I lived, I loved, I quaff’d, like thee:
I died: let earth my bones resign;
Fill up-thou canst not injure me;
The worm hath fouler lips than thine.

Better to hold the sparkling grape,
Than nurse the earth-worm’s slimy brood;
And circle in the goblet’s shape
The drink of Gods, than reptiles’ food.

Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,
In aid of others’ let me shine;
And when, alas! our brains are gone,
What nobler substitute than wine?

Quaff while thou canst-another race,
When thou and thine like me are sped,
May rescue thee from earth’s embrace,
And rhyme and revel with the dead.

Why not? since through life’s little day
Our heads such sad effects produce;
Redeem’d from worms and wasting clay,
This chance is theirs, to be of use.

For the last three months it seems like I should have just attached a handle to the side of my head and used it as a mug for grog,  for groggy I have been, in and out of a fog of regret and bewildering grief brought on by separation and anxiety. But now I am digging through the rubble trying to use my head for better things, trying to figure what my life will be in this new world of singleness. I keep starting on a path and forgetting where I wanted to go. A lot of this is due to my crazy work schedule and need to not think to much about my situation. Today I have the morning off and I will use it to put my head to work organizing my creative life. Hopefully I will be writing daily for a while.