It was deeper then and I am lost
I would have slain those hoary lights
of a night that hid a wretchedness
far from the sight of those who cared.

But this worn flesh that writes away
takes all my being and focus thus;
How can I feel a love endowed
to all those of like mind
who frolic forward into time,
taking empty hearts as these
to fill with sedentary but hollow bliss.

For nothing clothes a spirit thus
as a body that came from this dust
of earth, or as it were, cosmos,
of life, or as I’d have it, lust.

For spirit is as spirit does
the priest forgets; sits in disgust
for everything devoted once he was
is now realized to be lost

and in the face of forward facing time
I must draw the line.

Here I draw the line.