Stressing the end

Standard

 

I know nothing too early and never too late

but blatant significance causing sincere

departures from sanitized reasoning fear

 

Yet frustrated facing the fast-pacing year

I find myself longing the steadier gait

of a past wrought in trial with triumph as bait

 

To move on through these half-numbered days as they leer

desponded, distracting, held down by the weight

of the numberless tasks which must be done by eight

 

So then turn me lest one side grow numb in the wait

and chase from the other cheek pains of the tear

or full stop the blind spots through which our souls peer

 


 

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