We spend our time on wasted days
And cheaply sell our souls for ways
To cheat the forms of our decline
And stretch the skein of borrowed time

On the morrow ships will sail
To roam beyond the hidden veil
And brave the stormy seas to see
If ships holds carry destiny
Yet here we will to seaward keep
The watch that holds our wandering feet
From paths and fields and trees and thought
Believing in the lies we've bought
Waiting here on well worn quays
To count the line of endless days
We lie and wait and lie some more
That hope awaits on distant shores
And wind borne sails in misty skies
Will answer all to that which lies
Slumbering within our breast
Awaiting lifes first step to test

Once a poem alit did linger
To tarry nigh upon my finger
Then having saying said
Once perched a fleeing fled

On the morrow good enough
If good enough be true
On the morrow time enough
Today the times are few
What once was said
Is said once more
In never ending ques
Till tomorrows become yesterdays
Todays an endless muse

Here Death strode and left its trace
Where laid its hand to mark the place
Bade stony pages stand in waiting
To offer up in silent greeting
Final words for those distressed
Written out on granite stones
Under which in Deaths caress
Lie sedentary bones
Whose dreaming now is not besot
In earthly tasks nor woes begot
For Death to those in quiet repose
Bequeathed lifes last refrain
And eyes and lips forever closed
For evermore abstain
Yet with a dreamers certainty
Now ponder for eternity
The meaning spake in timeless odes
Upon which Deaths surcease bestowed

It occurs, the brilliant light
Pulses once to blight the sight
Backflash lit in memory seared
Fades to fondest wish endeared

No more though I pine, may I rip from breast and thought
This blind obedience to kind that claims all that is naught
What tranche belies and thus survives divided from the whole
Ere natures heart must thus depart from customary roles
As fleeting breaths do evanesce in splintered harmony
Bids archeus farewell to dwell in brief obscurity
What balm may stem the march of time, what plea redeems the day
Who dares conspire and thus oppose the gyre of Sedens way