The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in

With its words of a life where nothing is new.

Ah, Mother American Night, I’m lost from the light.

Ohhh, I’m drowning in you.

—John Perry Barlow, “Black-Throated Wind”

Flight of the seabirds

Scattered like lost words.

Wheel to the storm and fly.

—John Perry Barlow, “Cassidy”

We fray into the future, rarely wrought

Save in the tapestries of afterthought.

—Richard Wilbur, “Year’s End”