Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Of Ingrained Tide...

This borderland of sea and sand
Is hinged to a divide
Where breath by breath we wield the death
That planes an ingrained tide

Until at last the scythe is cast
That severs Now from Then
And we proceed beyond the Need
That ingrains mortal men

Time’s one-way track does not wind back
One step from where we are
It flows toward a place outpoured
Without border or bar

Beg, borrow, trust where morrow-dust
Soon cakes beneath our stride
As wise and fool both grip a tool
That planes an ingrained tide

© Janet Martin

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit! I welcome and appreciate, if thought you care to speak; the value and the input of compliment or critique