And when I thought that days would move
One into the next towards desolation and remorse
There is a sea change and the west wind blows
And the soul waits impatient and the seeds of hope
and promise find the will to seek the sun
and grow
And here in the desperation and the solemn surrounds
of the mulch of yesterday as it ferments;
Here, where my way is lost and the narrative dies
I must use what is present to feed tomorrow because it
is hungry and wakes me with
it's cries
