To bring to the surface And place them Before their unwilling eyes dreaming promised to Hold him close Wrap him Safe within its embrace Then Flew away He charted the stars Left in Solitary Thought he recognised A life Spent in pleasing others Never rustling Even gently Their comfort Suppressing each moment Of righteous anger The only gift of a restless night Leaving him Insecure Nothing held the mystery For him Like the sea itself Lost safe in the darkness He tried to kindle the touchstone fondlings of another’s warmth and blood until the bright of day Required Its sacrifice What future winds What past storms Were The author Of his desiny The Weaver Of his dream Once upon a time Neptune’s daughters had seemed mysterious Cruelty was their ever present weapon To cut deep Into his youthful Hopeful Romantic Ideal Now Those who could discern In his age No threat To their own spent dreams were kind
