Full of desires my heart once was to be,
Now seems that time has stooped, eternity
Grown stale by the wandering night sea,
Whereon my steady vessel treads lightly
As a fox that begins to hunt his prey.
Yet in hunting I have grown tired, pray
For some new challenge from the day, and so
Turn for shore in my little boat of hope
That has caused me to stare into skies, mope
Like a pitiful fool, which I would soon
Resemble more in thought and mind; swoond's!
I should return to the land from whence I came,
Then to stay forever at sea the same.
Work in Progress, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment