Stray Echoes
One too many
faces, plights and things
that make up this realm
racing to agree
and may be commence
but whose moment is long overwhelmed
by a stray light not free
of what she brings
and what might be
now then and hence
empty like the old sea
whose stray echoes are frozen
and forbidden to be
as they remain cold but tense
Count me always
in this and the next
but do not look me in the eyes
insisting to makes sense
of it all, of one thing
this time is too dense
and this space is too vexed
to reach that lull
where the fence sits
and where time subtends
one plight too many
whose pain is too heavy
and its dull face lends
nothing to this beginning
or to that null, aching end.
