My form is burrowed in vestigial cloak,
Their shadowed arms lean to and fro,
Each setting here in different chairs,
Their time dispersed upon the sturdy oak,

Of all the scholars stretching to the deep,
I stand in line upon a subject young,
Informed more deeply than I know,
By toil which wettened brows in thought so long ago,

In time the fancy of man begins to rhyme,
Into Preceding Light he's drawn to dine,
Upon the mechanistic worlds beneath,
Charting abstract lands and fashioning them new.

O shores of time,
I feel you roil the nearing tide,
Fast crash in greedy laps upon the sand,

O shores of time,
I feel your hollowness of old,
Fast crash new tidings gathered in their place,

O shores of time,
I feel you weary bones in hidden depths,
Fast crash in fuzzing sparks among the nerves.

O shores of time,
I feel you march a band out through the sand,
Fast crash when time turns full and the Day is come.

You placed a heavy weight on my life,
A calling to higher places,
But it's not like other weights,
It's gentle still in hard spaces.

Seems to pull me heavenward,
It makes me light and bubbly,
And its fuel for my days:
A basic necessity.

I can't wait for it Lord,
You know its just an expression,
So I'll wait here in your presence,
Keep me humble and escaping,

The evil one, he's prowling,
But you'll use it for my good,
Refining metal in the furnace,
Till you take me with quickly packed cases.

Wherever it may be...