Before Morning Rises, Or … Poem by Peter S. Quinn

These thoughts out of its stillborn time and sails
Of freshness flowing to shake on my soul
The vigor of its blood in living nails
That cannot still remain in wrenching role
Like the smoking wick at a keenly sight
Of something that turned in sleep astray
With thoughts or longings from deep under night
Before morning rises in flicker play

Whatever stands to arrive here or die?
With the runs on, from the voyage of a dream
Every glory step and turning high
Where shadows in dancing too glary seem
The mounted of time and its eternity
That comes to the stands to give and be