John Bowne High School - Opus Yearbook (Flushing, NY)

Page 117 text:

How frail, delicate and yet beautiful are the dreams of our youth. No strings attached No conditions-rules lt springs from and lives in the gypsy spirit in us all. Priceless Yet imprisoned more and more as we age till it's forgotten. But there are a few A rare species Still young despite the constant factor , . . They continue to explore, seek and discover the hidden magic of their minds Arleen Louie

Page 116 text:

The garments you wear hide your skin, The smile you show conceals where you've been, Your footsteps show a trace of your past, The future will come, the past canlt last. Your hair has grown for a decade or more, Rolls down your back like the seasons before. Perhaps it's a way, a sign to grow, Life can be easier than you may know. The pen you hold has written down your sorrow of fears and tears that both have been bought and borrowed, The language you've used is near how you feel, It's time to bow down, it's time to kneel. Today has come with a promise that's old of changes and places that have not yet been told, So let us leave behind all we can't hold and start a new time again. Plant the seeds upon a fertile ground a flower can blossom without a sound cover the earth with gentle hands lt's not for us to understand Reach for the treetops who knows what you'll find. Words of a prophet, ideas that can rhyme, Squirrels may hide their food up there, Or we may find more we can share. Let us think of all the goodness we get Put aside all horrors, Let us forget Stand straight and strong, look to the sky . . . we may possess joy before we die. MANJIT CHA WLA

Page 118 text:

Time marches on and eternity waits but somehow it is never reached. And though time tries with all its might, it can only halt and beseech eternity to stop toog but it never does. Mercilessly it marches on and we are lost in the blinding storm it leaves behind. We seek it, reach out for it, but never quite make it,' to the edge, to the brink of that final turn And eternity marches mercilessly on. Past, present or future it has no time for contemplation, it marches on without realization, of all of us it's left behind. And all our lives we live, seeking to catch up to eternity and be eternal ourselves. But we are locked like books on a shelf within the framework of time, hanging on to that tender line we call hope, in the belief that one day we will be able to betray time, and leave it far behind in our hurry to find, eternity.