Limbo

Now, according to the common shift from one stage of education to another, knowing full well that it was my decision, mine and mine alone, to deliberately ski through the small impression in the glacier that turned out to be a hungry crevasse, we find each day slicing the syllables e-ter-ni-ty into larger and larger chunks; they plop with defiant plops into a state very much like limbo, the stream gurgling through straiten'd banks fanning itself with dancing bulrush, and the bream keeps head against the freshnets. The wind shifts direction above the waves shimmering; the stark cliffs tunneling on either side the dangerous strait, but here and there we spy a hidden nook, protected by soft banks of sand from the buffeting wind, opening to a lush meadow promising fruit and youth evermore; but we, these Florentines, self-retired in hungry pride and gainful cowardice, praising not thy pregnant morrow but rather thy unplowed greens, are forever drawn by human nature's megrim. and how do we plead: unsure.