New York
Driven by necessity, man can achieve
Elevation in a confined space
And in a place of Babel reach the sky.
Bewildered, men look up, wonder
And demand, where does it end?
Is there a friend behind those many windows?
One who can sing, sigh, grow old quietly
And die behind the grand facades.
And though many lives are worn
Under the torn sky. The unending fuss,
Of subway, ferry, cab and bus,
Consists of parts made up of each of us.
Tom Brace was born in Dublin in 1948. He joined the Irish Army in 1968 and served for 21 years and then entered TCD as a mature student in 1989. He graduated with a degree in english literature and history. He then entered the Irish civil service in the Department of Finance. Recently retired and completed a postgrad M.Phil in Modern Irish History in TCD where he currently acts as a research assistant in the History Department.He is a regular contributor to Three Monkeys Online
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