Completing Infinity

And comes the time, oft many sought with blinded eyes that squint into the dark, searching for that in tight grasp with faithless hopes that it be found. No grudge shall I bear as a traveler his mug, that holds within above a cracked below, a drink for the voyage whose starting is the ending to the eye and mind. In the open sky I shall hide all that has been, is and no longer morrow. To remind a scribbler to forget friends and foes. For the mind’s cask shears upon such thought of great appeal. My time. To no longer will, but bend, or even break. To be deaf to all, with only hearing for one with a deafening whisper. As the tongue exits its cave, loud be my scream as the bewitching hour. Search no more. By your follicles, you would tell as words deny you might… of this scribbler you once grappled in sight. As he dissolves in his dry ink, I beseech thee again. “Search no more”.