Rust and Dust

3) Crawl I must, much further still, into night
That drags on into everlasting light;
Bats do have better chances, better sight,
Than I now employ. Yet songs will I sing,
The dower of joy unburdened by pains
Of the body, gifted in it's sighs, rains
Governed to fill the wounds of sin made clear
By the impressions still found in my flesh.
Try such confessions through the sound of song!
Why, touch depressions? Move the day along
By remembrances sweeter, grooves that pull
Me to places I once trod! Yet my hopes,
These true faces, die as I plod through dust
Untold, begin to fade, become as rust.     

                                                                  Rust and Dust, (C) Luke Bennette, March 2012