We lay down our work-worn tools
Of ‘will’ and ‘can’ and ‘must’
Twilight cascades onyx pools
Over tents of dust
Thought, the scoundrel that he is
Boldly rakes its deep
Ethereal parenthesis
Twixt toiling and sleep
Quiet quickens with the dirge
Where night-shadows lay
Overhead the silent surge
Of dark moments splay
Deep within us thought alone
Bears the settlement
Of what 'will', 'can', 'must' have done
Where this day is spent
Morning meanders in air
Beyond nocturne shore
Lowering to thresholds where
This day will be no more
‘Will’ and ‘can’ and ‘must’ return
Weighting mortal touch
By their test we love and learn
Lessons of life and such
© Janet Martin
Who pushes you through the day; Will, Can or Must?
Right now, it is MUST.
ReplyDeleteAnd I LOVE LOVE LOVE this poem!
'must' seems to be the boss around here too;)
ReplyDeleteThank-you for dropping by.