3059. THE HARBOR AT SONG

THE HARBOR AT SONG
Don't say unfortunately unless you
mean it... and only then shall they
ask me what I want - a dew drop
glistening on each blade of grass, a
morning's new light and awakening.
No, no, I want for nothing more.
-
And oh thus forever I structured
my time near where only the lyre
bird would sing : high buildings are
all gone where nothing left exists.
I am thy humble wand.
-
Look out, as desperate eyes encircle
the view, and see all things, variant,
fixtured and vast. It is the very heart
of one, of me, of you, that shall possibly
last. And here we are then looking, alas,
at our own and only peril. I want for
nothing more. I am thy humble wand.