I have read a thousand books or so,
I know of art and life. I hare read of
philosophy and of dreams, I know of
the monitions unseen and of all the
truths that yet remain. I remember all
the things we used to do, and now
oddly nothing seems new. Lying alone
as she waits for me nothing about this
is true. I have seen the future and I
must confess that of love I know
nothing and even less I know of you.
David Blake
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/our-future-9/
