Prostrate, on these knees I’ve knelt
The studded joints of heart have smelt
An emptied organ still beats on
Though she that filled it now is gone
And I am left to sleep and wake
And sleep and wake and sleep and wake
Without a single pause or break
Yet in my head and aching chest
Will never know a day of rest
For even as I rise from gloom
There is another day of doom
That hints and squeaks so ominous
Like corner-hidden shadow mouse
Without protection from the fraud
Of learning I am not a god
I’ve no control, deprived of shield
To stop the scythe the Reaper wields
How quaint life was before the veil
Of innocence, so thin and pale
Was ripped apart by bare a gust
Now here I stand with nothing but
The sinking grasp I’ve long ignored
To not let all the good you hoard
Sit heaped like gold a miser hides
For tragedy does not abide
It laughs in face of we that rue
Eternity of things to do
Who’re punished when our only crime
As fools, live like there’s always time…
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