Much ado about the end of men’s time. The sweeping billets and criminal offense. So tense the hearts and wayward hope. Escaping mimes and avoiding mines. The task a random solution of eloquent endeavors. Where dreams are written and songs remembered. And dawn a perfect measure of indigo and red. While the son hides its face while they summon all to breakfast. In our sleep we never forgot the reason. Relaxing in the causeway where nightmares seldom roam. In flight we experienced the upside and malignant. Challenging all men to become more than they were. We flexed our upset and never read emotion. Totally ignorant of the stomach full of fear. To promise nothing marching in holed boots and anodized brass. Clicking our tongues to accommodate tom foolery. We fell to the ground in vast semblance of piety. As our backs were broken by the absolute unbreakable. We remained tethered to blind assumption that rescue approached us. In daftness and vast indifference to any character we looked for something upon which to focus our thought.

Our internal bosses belted down sweet tea while the servants looked away. The scraping sound of heart’s bottom signaled the bitterness of foul air and Earth. We knew not yet presided over reason. Claiming strength in palsy and prowess in vapid contemplation. We stumbled for causes while answers escaped us. In league with pride and noble intention we set about to master nothing and claim we’d done it quickly. Our days were longer than nights would consider. The backs of our Sherpa’s laden with massive tote. Reflecting on emptiness we cast a vision of the things that would never be and the ways that we never went. For our challenges forgotten we strove to be King of nowhere and vassal of lost habitation. Well to do without a coin to match between us. Our invitation revoked by the bellman backed up by massive talent. The plague of nation and the raw aspiration of failed thinking. Chiming in with some words meant to gather attention. We forgot to mention the fact that our friend knew the owner of the assembly. In rhyme we recounted the debasement of our banishing.

Pray tell what lands and victories would find rebirth in the morning. Where tears left dry eyes basking in smiles so wide they threatened breadth of horizon. And suns so distant screamed as their light only seen at night was far too primitive and slow to reach the heavens. But what perspective in parsecs and volume when testing the limits of vacuum surrounded in time. Tapping our fingers and toes we hope to rush into good pleasure. Finding only the cold, runny noses and dirty hands of the men who sought their sin way passed season. What coffers filled by lilies lobbying for good measure? What androids found love in lifelessness, hoping to resemble something that would be accounted to God. Mercy of merciless. Strange distant ring of bells calling those who no longer believed to recall a story of absent grace. What grand words I deliver to convince you of things for which there is no evidence offered? So seldom my brief display of righteous consideration I thought now the best opportunity for accounting.

What do I have to give proof in use of things, rings and talents acquired? Where are the treasures of this world that may only be sealed in memory and experience? What fuel may I offer fire’s warmth? I lay back and let the Bishops take pawns swiftly. Visual acuity and reactive fear the best of my gifting. Hiding and wondering around with the salt of reason wiped from my visage. I employ the depths of independence and an air of non threatening movement as my best act of camouflage. Hoping to resemble air, fire, water or dirt, I leak toward the edge of perception. These are most certainly not my dromedaries. And the servants sent packing with their flashing robes and wonderful wares. We just recently invited to the party. I fortunately have no faux pretense of station or family. Having never risen from the depths of depravity, never known fame beyond candor, and hope beyond poverty. I fall to sleep as men wake and fail to quiver as men shake. For I am cast off in the wake of time’s passing. To be remembered only by God and the oft chance mishap of recognition from the middle of the crowd. Glory spilled forth before the crystal sea, undeserved and unwanted.