Jet Burns

In bleak and woe-befallen sickness strange
you wake at morn to find new winds that blow
along grey shafted beams that swift do change
your feeling hung, deprived: for cows do low
...

O gracious Lethe ~ Innocent sincere!
Beauteous child who knows near naught at all;
those specters, save, that dim and chill appear
from out your looking-glass to then appall!
...

When Death is near and drawing off sweet Light,
then breathe incense entombed in balm-tongued air
that weaves a Flame to ward away despair;
you have the singing consolation bright!
...

When rain does fall upon the shadow'd boughs
in dreaming poise ere errant wakefulness,
you quaff the potion of experience-
to dream and dream of what new spirit shows!
...

When young we have such deep o'er-whelming dreams!
for highest hopes then burn away all dross;
though what is real becomes not as it seems,
emerging hateful from the feathered gauze:
...