Evergreen

Time will fly, or mouth a crooning dirge, 
Across the sweep of ancient worlds, 
Visioned by the few who see; 
Myth and magic conjure sights 
And sounds of a dimension lost 
Where all creation longs to be.

Time will flit, or haul a scythe 
About the mind in measured drag 
To mark us of it's ruling ways; 
Evangelising nature's cause 
With business calm and resolute, 
Setting seal on all our days. 

Trees will grow and tower on, 
Magnificent of bough and leaf, 
Enduring of the modern spleen; 
Love be ours, held close and dear 
In mystic wood and verdant glade, 
In permanence, be evergreen...

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