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Poem


Positively, every day we lay to waste one more chance.
Though the sun doth rise and meet us in yellow gold.
Will your great revival begin today?  Only by happenstance?

By all great men, in awe, we've be moved to muse and trance.
When the musician's fingers flitter, to make our souls seem whole.
Positively, every day we lay to waste one more chance.

And as the boats stay moored, afloat of our chance,
over a wanting light on black screams, a shadow folds.
Will your great revival begin today?  Only by happenstance?

They cry, they all cry!  A guff, their queer parlance.
A beckoning light so bright as to seem to take hold.
Positively, every day we lay to waste one more chance.

The athlete, his body strong against the crushing weight, his defiance.
Thou vile villain, thou interrupting season of cold.
Will your great revival begin today?  Only by happenstance?

To want for is not to waste, to keep held high the the chin and dance.
And yet as I lie, the shadows creep and their time still known.
Positively, every day we lay to waste one more chance.
Will your great revival begin today?  Only by happenstance?

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