Closes within a dream

[pjthompson]

Near-irony of the day:  I was driving to work this morning through Venice, as I always do.  Atop one of the Italianate buildings there on Windward near the beach, I thought I spotted a pigeon sitting on the head of one of those fake owls they put on buildings in the vain hope that it will chase away the pigeons.  I laughed, thinking this the ultimate rock dove Up Yours, but as I drew closer, I realized it wasn't an owl the pidgie sat upon, just an oddly shaped light fixture. 

Alas, I was searching too hard for ironies.  A lesson in art there, if one was needed.

♠︎

And here's a poem for my father.  Happy birthday, dad, wherever you are.  I hope the roses are sweet.

Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam

(The brief sum of life forbids us the hope of enduring long—Horace.)

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
      Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
      We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
      Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
      Within a dream.

—Ernest Dowson, 1867-1900

♠︎

One of the heartbreaking ironies of this poem is the use of one of the lines in both the 1962 film about alcoholics and a similar use in a Van Morrison song.  Ernest Dowson died of alcoholism at the age of 33.

You see: you don't really have to look hard for ironies.  Life scatters them in your pathway like rose petals.