Exaltation
Oh, what for that final burst of light
And that strange exaltation?
What was it that we hungered for
What less information?
Oh, what for that final dream of death
And that queer release?
What need it that we cower from
What true beliefs?
Oh, what for that final dash of ink
And that stain on paper from pen?
What is it so that poets would cry
What is it so to them?
What for the last cry to the dark’d night,
What for that last laugh, last blight,
And how much more pain can this earth cause bear,
Oh, what is the meaning then?
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When inspiration strikes, the strangest things happen to come out when you put pen to paper, things like this poem. I could probably give it a one page analysis, but I won't, because when questions such as 'what was the author thinking of when she wrote this' will yield answers like 'nothing, because the author was just writing'. I like this poem.