To Lie Awake In Doubt

I muse a song that songs have known, and often of it sing what of waste? what of want? and of desired things, I tell a tale no man has known, and every man same in the blood of human life all hearts, they beat the same speak of drear and weary thought and rise thee from thy grave oh the things we poets lost-- so often short of change ah, the signs that hold us so bound, we are, to fate myth we cannot seem to grasp held to that we state legend--how it holds us so even as the moon we, the sea of hope and dream pulled away too soon... and the shore, so very close each time, we stake our lot we fall as once upon a dream so short of this we sought but once again, our eyes, so still bereft of light, remain and seeing there the cliffs again a seabound soul, we gain to toss and turn a-thousand nights to lie awake in doubt to hope beyond a weathered shade of days, we drift about