Written in a Geneva
A dirge and epilogue is sung for me
on your fleeing island of uninterested
unavailability. The owl hoots no more
on moonlit nights of home.
Biblical Zacchaeus and Matthew: Oh!
Little me: "pass me not O gentle
Saviour...". Green pastures abound.
My peace unbound. Your island is
so real. The bridge stands no more
on humane pathway to landscapes. Kai!
Your island is so real, daughter of
the Almighty Creator.
Pathway to landscapes: The eagle I am
must soar this new day to welcoming
mountain-tops to view, one last time,
your pathway to landscapes.
At the stroke of midnight, this blessed
new day, I will depart your island of
unavailability; and sail for the high
seas. My smiling ship is created. The
wind from others beckons. Pines of home
whistle. The rainbow awaits. My simple
ship is set to sail; and I must bid you
farewell in God's care. I invite thee
no more on earthly footpaths. Oh!
Epitaph! This Epitaph! Would that
I wrote thee not; or perhaps
forgotten my lines on this
strange stage through life.
Heaven's gardens: Remember, when we
finally meet there, I am the bald
Eagle that tarried for years on your
unfeeling island of unavailability :-
made whole with heavenly bounties in
His soul saving bossom.
AH! Epitaph! This farewell! This glad
dirge sung for me! This epilogue! Oh!
Little me. The owl hoots no more on
moonlit nights of home because this
glad dirge is sung. This emerald
epitaph all for you to set me freeee!
Heaven's gardens and meadow sea
shores. I set sail at midnight