Authors note: thanks to John Milton
Age itself leaves the mind a sear,
wandering cruel radical so crude,
burning truth as future left rude,
keep well the time a fear let a year.
Solitude oh love I seek you dear,
payment for the love land now due:
struck a mark upon the soil in prime,
voice that lingers brings son no peer:
wake and ask the value lain a knew
life escapes the palette of rhyme.
Will you the shouldered cross bear
face cold and damned into the wind,
no malcontent have we shedding life’s tear.
Bleeding hearts dance take love well,
flesh as it partakes in the coming spring,
bounce tirades on the jack of a string.
Kept in rumbles lost not a tremble excuse,
Fingers dance as the bard and live a Muse
She is a love to view and part mostly Urn,
mantle is the showcase heads and hearts turn,
pick and shovel they place a show of shroud.
Churchyard takes and gives from birth hole in hill,
pen graces the page and minds keep words on a rill.
Ghost do not die old words now lost appeared
keeper of the faith loses sun at morn,
death a single voice silent is not heard.
Silhouette breaks the norm as mentor plays his horn,
From the shackles of the grace called night,
best of funeral fires burn the souls so bright
wear well a water drip unseen a vision wheel.
Bell on the hill soft sound plays mute,
dead is the bard yet in the wind he flute
held in book of rite held by his weaken heel,
not to be forgotten for so time is so long,
In memory only words will sing life song