Aug 212011
I sing of him whose heart had hung
	 Above all struggle or wonder
	 Of our broken woes. Far oh far
Beyond our little lays he'd sung.

Yet here's no death, no reason, and
	 No loss. No loss? No loss but less
	 Of friendship than I'd lief confess,
A faded castle, fallen sand

Built up upon imperfect hope
	 Toward another sky. Lost, the dream;
	 Lost the meaning once deemed more firm,
The promise more than swami's rope.

We'd had heaven's ascent held fast:
	 What we'd reared in reckless dawn
	 As though God's own brave secret shown,
Looms a gibbet now dawn is past

And sunless exile welcomes me.

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