in conclusion

i have come to the conclusion that i shall go the way of Yeats and Clare, in a state of rhyme, one who dreamed and loved the poetry, who would rather see the deer and turkey alive, the snake not hung to dry.
i was one who would sit for hours and watch the moon, just to catch a jet puncturing it. one who loved the photography and the artistry, though everyone ignored it basically and never understood it. who would rather see pictures pretty and not too deeply and just once quickly, never mulling and studying, like he did.
who blogged daily, though it was considered shallow and boring by many, except around thirteen who said they followed. i conclude therefore, this world must not be my home, that i was made for a world where Yeats and Clare and Vincent went, far from the jets that streaked close, but not quite close enough to the moon i watched.