For the Ages
In the washed-window street lamp-light,
Iambs of your heart’s beats
Like dallying sheep across the ceiling
Grazing into nothingness
While the negligent Shepard
Our father who art in heaven,
Guides our eyes behind our eyelids.
Wild, we wing away,
Bedding not restricting our flight,
Embarking to unknown places,
Far past the town park
As flies the crow
So let we and be not afraid
Though danger us surrounds
Eke the radio towers in the darkness.
But soon we will returning
Find ourselves entrenched again
And if you were awaking then
The fancy had been mine alone.
Though hand in mine you soared
Twixt clouds and arboreal spires
Also you slept onwards
Whilst sheep with iambs conspired.
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