Nobody wants losses in the column. Wins and strong chins to withstand the volleys of times assault. There conquest is psychically untenable, threatening the moorings of man and measure. Take pleasure in defeat as there in the wisdom lay. Nothing is learned in conquest but greater lust and hunger.

Onboard to end the parade of dissatisfaction. Likened to comedic buffoon, dike splinter or antiseptic to drone out or cauterize the slow steady loneliness of drones and weekenders. What pleasure to be found in folly of individuation, but the welcome forgetfulness and destabilization of psychic plunder.

Devoid of writ, part or station, assigned no lines or closeups, just shrugs of indifference and helpful hands to carry the occasional burden or sop the random tear. Our happiness may not be found selling the dreams and caretakers procedures to fill the moments when death would have been strongly preferred.

The smug, indignantly look and sodden stare of those unwilling for part and tender. Gone are the banquets, medals and stationery, replaced by cardboard cutout and denials trouble. What legion of hope in monogram upon stenciled jacket or embroiled handkerchief. The cravat or black-blotched dance card.

We prayed together for things beyond our own contrivance. Measures and worlds exceeding universality, things that mattered to no one who only matter to anyone. Love kept sweet in letters and poems written for saints and queens. Finding only the lonely standing sideways to glimpse the seaside.

Oh row to rhythms of wild men and blistered hands that have taken life and lover. Drums beating down upon our crucial equipping, leaving us bereft of courtesy or madness. In dreamt tones of harmony and peace we ride the waves seeking slumber or sustenance. Our minds empty our bellies unguarded.

We are not men who fall for lax judgment, tomfoolery or the occasional breech of moral ineptitude. We stand tall against the dark thinking ourselves lashed to the sands of time. Playing roles that make us all heroes to self and splendor. Our coats unkempt we rise to greet the King who already knows us.

Get in our own delightful reason that paints walls with brown sugar and hearts with force and ardor. Stumbling through pathways long and darkened heights we seek windows to wonderland and fall pray to fables, porch swings and slow gentle strolls beyond the lilacs and lilies.

Valley long and mountain deep, granite sticking fingers to the sky welcoming cloud and eagle. Our promise the long walk to pick up and drop off the inconsequential. Daylight our only food, washed down with the rain of tears. The dark still beckons but the Light has forever come to heaven.