A Death Song Not An Elegy

               I
Wishing and wondering
Words to spare,
Project a covering
Sweetly austere,
Silently waiting
The watcher draws near...
And then around the next bend
Traveling.

Heartache and Happenstance
Spun still unraveling.

Granted distance and a relative time, but besides this,
I insist!

What an anchor
Displaced,
Howling is appropriate
Against the wind and the waves.
A mist and in my mind
Blanket to exchange,
A mile markers bright play:

Gifted Styx!
Death is your way,
Have I been so blind to this time?
We will see.
In all this exuberance
And in all this shame, we will sing!
The tooth muses interest,
Will to intervene.

And what sight?
After all has been rolled over
And everything surmised,
What the chains held well in sentence
Return again into the light.

And Hail!
Let all that falls
Pass away.

Hades dialect, apt to pick away,
What plight?
This fire lights an interest,
Boat out and well away,
No harbor,
Apropos to change


               II
And well away,
What happened to haunt you
Is not here today.

Pulse, the gun fires again;

 Linked, entwined.
 Spun rhythms surely
A meter every line.
 Strong or weak! Sign,
 What is purchased early
Leaves them all in their sleep
 Behind burning
Trailing smoke, an apology,
 Dust on the breeze,
All shattered for showboats,
 A calm gaze into the brink.
 Cowboy carving up to your knees,

Drink deep,
                   An empty well will wash you clean.

Post-evening and a time to sing, and stay.
Just another facet approaching,
Another system displayed
And how holy, another face turns away.
Entwined and with the breath for a spade,
Call me like you see it,
See one for a day.
Calm ways to bend in season,
Well, there's a will, there's a way.

               III
A flash.
In this place time seems empty,
Only a vast expanse, visible
With an open gaze,
Grooming.

What more to chase?
Make sure
And mark my eyes with chaos,
Chains sent sailing into the distance,
No harbor,
Apropos to change.

Harping! And what sense?
A part from me to you
And well I wish to witness
Every play until it's through.

And three shades form may-be and happening,
A fresh sport to entertain.
A Monday bore Aurora
Among a fog a lifting ray.

White is framed
Against the blackening,
An open palm
Against the waves,
Monday mourning misery
Among a fog a lifting ray.

While one word will lift
The curtains captain,
Fairly swift and well away.
Sweetly singing symmetry
 All is lost,
 All is lost,
Well away.