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the etext

after midnight
all is dark, the world sleeps
but in one corner of the room
I am still awake
gazing at the lurid light of the computer screen
yet my thoughts are two centuries in the past
in a Paris strange and foreign
enraptured in the woes of a brave man
captured by the most cunning of his enemies
and slowly tortured
yet he is strong
and so am I
holding back the tears as I read

one o'clock precisely
I tear myself away, closing down the machine
I undress in the dark
by the light sneaking under the door
and pull myself wearily into bed
still with the brave man in my mind
the man in the prison
who plans even in his pain
and I dream

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