Written by Ignatius Harling

Photograph by  Denys Nevozhai

Photograph by Denys Nevozhai


There is a state that I get into

Where nothing seems to be enough

And the joy of all my yesterdays

Converts itself to present stuff

And I am frightened by a shadow

Of a taller and a truer man

And I am haunted in the midnight hour

And I do not understand


They say that humour is a kind of grace

And I have often heard it said

That pride may hide a loss of face

To go the distance of the dead

So if my present fears may justify

These simple words upon the page

I trust my sentiment may qualify

My troubled nature for a simpler age.

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