Poetry: Circadian

Up at the top of the hour of the night

Lost in the movement of a thousand lights

I walked through the sands of a thousand times

Lost in the winds of the infinite rhymes

Up at the peak of the mountain of gold

Lost in the beats of the heart, thousand fold

I walked through the snow of a thousand years

Lost in the winds of the infinite fears

Up at the hills of the pastures of old

Lost in the sounds of past battles foretold

I walked though the grass of a thousand hearts

Lost in the strokes of the infinite arts

Up at the edge of the end of the Earth

Lost in the knowledge of which I searched

I walked through the waters of a thousand deaths

Lost in the echoes of the infinite jest 

Up then at the edge of the end of the Earth

Lost in the knowledge of which I searched

I could not walk further through any more death

So I un-lost myself from the infinite jest

Up at the hills of the pastures of old

Un-lost in the sounds of past battles foretold

I walked back through the grass of those thousand hearts

And I marked them with kindness of only one art

Up again at the peak of the mountain of gold

Touching only the hearts of which I could hold

I walked past the snows of just a few years

And assuaged only a few of the infinite fears

Up at the top of the hour of the night

Now seeing clearly through a thousand lights

I washed the sands with water until they were still

And wrote in them rhymes of the gentlest wills

Up now at the roof of the house where I live

Un-lost in the life to which work I now give

I walk across shingles, a hundred or so

At home in the life I have now come to know

Posted to dVerse