by Steve King
All rights reserved
I am done and gladly rise,
rub these letters from my eyes,
quell the music that abides
to stir old silence and surmise.
Finished as a guy may be,
abandoning this alchemy
of casting spells that soon reply
and howl their strange cacophony.
Noonday shadows rising high,
numbing rhythms twisting by;
idle dreams and compromise:
far past time to let it lie.
Though I’m done and gladly rise,
the dancing letters yet reprise;
the music stays, to no surprise,
to fill new silence, new surmise.
Folding close old revery
it sings occasioned certainies,
drawing forth the ancient ties
to meld with new epiphanies…
No matter that I gladly rise,
the music stays, the silence flies.