Awaiting this long end of waits I look, From tallied terms I seize upon the day, Strange symbols at the very root of all, Old trees of calcifying dreams awake, The machinations of such burdened minds.
Walking in cold winter spells, The world to silence fell. Rustles in the mid-morn breeze, Were scarcely met with chiming bell,
To every eye a glance and step, A time for each I haven't kept, But now I see at every breath, There ever is a time by grace to turn - From where I prior rashely I leaped.
Beneath the stars, The moon a speckled general in the sea, Up seems weak to convey their heights, They go beyond my reach, Yet higher still I know the depths recede, Beyond my comprehension firmly at the peak, Till all the starry hosts are generals on the seas.