Thus bends the day

Thus bends the day
toward nightfall
unbidden, unrelinquished
without reference or meaning

So goes another lost anthem
drifting off to bedlam
from the sheer friction of time

Whatever hounds or tracks our lives
however keen, persistent,
(such wisps as bind us to our fate)

Yet stronger than all
our pining flings the day gone

And we,
too full of surrendering
to simply release

While the wick burns lower
the dwindle-dream


Another sailor slips the pier
To the swift beyond
No waiting in this queue
Will call when your turn comes up
No use guessing
No use jumping the line
It’s crossed in all due time

How we push and pull
Unaware, apparently, that
No effort speeds or hinders
We play the waiting game
Doing our best to be useful
All the while missing the point

Looking in vain for our ship to come in
Across our own waning gunwales

The undiscovered country

The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveler returns, Puzzles the will …
~ Shakespeare, Hamlet Act 3 Scene 1

These borders are flimsy
You wonder how they hold
You don’t see the other side
You don’t see past the mirror
Soiled with hope and love

You wonder how the place can hold
A history’s worth of grief
All the loved and despised
All the grand and homely
The celebrated and unnoticed
But mostly the long forgotten

The teeming ranks of lives gone by
Every one sworn to remembrance always
Blessed by sacraments
Or cursed into sullen graves

You may lunge at these borders
Or flinch or simply watch
But no one crosses from there

Though some claim to have gone and returned
These ghosts live only through you
Breathe only with your lungs
In a country still undiscovered