Debris

by Walt Whitman · 1860-1861
Published 01/07/1860

DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night,

The sad voice of Death—the call of my nearest

      lover, putting forth, alarmed, uncertain,

This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,

Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my

      destination.

#death #despair #existential crisis #journey #lost love #mortality #walt whitman

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