Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd.
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

Archform:Beauty - chapter:13

Parsfal is reminded of an old poem

The white death came, and then it left,
its scalpel neither swift nor deft….

Archform:Beauty - chapter:17

by Drew, post-Collapse

The world is weary of the past
Oh, might it die or rest at last…

Archform:Beauty - chapter:17

Parsfal, old lines crept into his head

But something is recalled,
My conscience or my vanity appalled.

Archform:Beauty - chapter:25

…as the Irishman had put it

'Lives of Quiet Desperation'

Most lead lives of quiet desperation,
so vainly seeking divine inspiration,
ignoring the smile of a child just kissed,
the scent of roses after gentle mist,
the robin's song across the morning lawn,
following the soft-blazing orange of dawn…

Archform:Beauty - chapter:28

Evans - modern art song

She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone…

Archform:Beauty - chapter:38

by Jude Parsfal

We have seen it all, what will be,
Yet no one else will turn to see.
We have written out who will fall,
Yet no one else will care at all.

We have no figures on the screen
no way to prove what we have seen
and so the earth will end its days
while ruled and rulers seek self-praise.

Archform:Beauty - chapter:38

by Jude Parsfal

The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
To balance with this life, this death…

Archform:Beauty - chapter:42

(words) not mine but those of the Irish bard.

No wind whispers, disturbs your fingers,
perfect hands where perfection lingers.
Your unsung song spins in my mind,
seeking words I still cannot find.

I watched after others did you wrong,
and never heard your favoured song,
yet scarce can find the strength to bring
strong warm words for you to sing.

So these flowers do I proffer
as but gesture, beginning offer.

Archform:Beauty - chapter:53

by Jude Parsfal - for Luara Cornett