(Gatsby's Major Flaw:) A Somnambulatory Reality
Tragic arguments fade
On towards death.
Life starts...again
All built with a wish.
(The colossal vitality of his illusion..)
The tragic eyes
Touch what was no longer tangible
The dead dream
Fought on as the afternoon slipped away
His incorruptible dream,
The portentous menacing road,
To bear an enchanted life
Was forgotten.
A sort of tender curiousity,
Back in vast obscurity
Last and greatest of all human dreams
Recedes before us.
The unreality of reality,
Unutterble visions... perishable breath,
Breathing dreams like air.
A melancholy beauty
Of... purposeless splendor.
A somnambulatory abstraction.