For it is of these days to which comes this weary heart and mind.

Foul disillusionment creeps; hopes taste bitter of yesterdays wine.

So why thereof should the battle be rekindled; why now fan a dying ember?

Why should I then continue, for visions have elapsed and love fails to remember?

So it is upon this hill where I take foot and mount my cross.

I bind my heart to the splintered wood; I negate yesterday to fulfill tomorrows loss.

Thus now goes this spirit which upon silver wings soars across an emerald sea.

Thus it is now into thy hands that my abiding soul shall unto eternity greet

Into Thy Manuum EGO trado meus animus…

J. Allen Wilson © 10/2007