Poets called

2875

Looking for language that might help, thinking on Xi’s stones for crossing a river, slippery, wet, partially submeged. Here are some of mine.

Are  we midway in the course of this life?
Ours? Our species?
Finding ourselves lost in dark pollution
Comedy followed by Inferno
Don Quixote leads the way
Hamlet keeps time
Joyce  history is a nightmare 
From which I am trying to awake
To forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.
Eliot sees the leaning
Yeats says mere anarchy
Will says There is a time in the affairs of men
Time and tide wait for no man.

What do you say?