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I have not that greatness in me Which awaits propitious times Or, anticipating fortune, spins The reeling wheel of Clotho's wind. Rather, Clio's been my mistress, Spur and pilot of my cause, Dusky mystic benefactress To all ends -- both gain and loss. As this argosy approaches, Cloaked in mist, its utmost port, Stealthily, its keel encroaches On my sternward-turning thoughts. Flashback mem'ries (mind's flotilla) Flitting by in flowing streams; Long to linger, sails a-billow, Phantomwise within those dreams. In the haven, evening falling, Shadows stretch to touch the shore; Bronzen bells chime, curfew tolling, Luminescence looms once more. Reminiscence growing gloomy: Metamorphic scenes of yore, All of which mean no more to me Than a set of metaphors. Refuge reaching, homeland hearthside, Old ghosts gather, cluster round; Introspection, like a riptide, Drags me out to where I'm drowned. Now, all hope of fame, surrender To the frailties of my clay Lease on life: "return to sender"; Bid farewells and then let us away. |
| (2020) |
| Created: August 23, 2020 | © Stephen Alsford |