Lo a meteor round the moon amid the stars!
How like a fairy it leaveth its trail behind
sparkling little innumerable motes of gold
forever to be found, ever to unfold
lay hidden, smoldering in the dust of time.
Every cinder that from a blacksmith's furnace
bloweth with ashes in the dimlit winternight
like some hidden lore of ancient times
doth tell me tales of woe and love benign
of lads and la**es, with souls entwined.
We art lost like a puff of smoke, vanished,
we hinge betwixt whispers cometh from afar
in the deep vast void, darkness unconsumed
the chaotic sounds we heard at the beginning
of all that was, is, and to be, art still spinning.
Tumultuous waters that roll in mighty oceans
and that pale leaf, the last at the bough,
art to me auguries of hushed time in motion
that dances in cosmos in simmering rounds
and beneath the skies, lurks in muddy mounds.