October 18, 2011
In the stirring of echoes and churning of wind
That touched gentle as a frail fingertip to a glass
The solemnest reckoning founded a friend
Who found the lost who lost the last
Hummed did the brass bells swelling the stern
Burn did the homes of the empty and strayed
And churn did the wind to tend to the flames
And leave only echoes in whispering shades
Vibrant was it all to the eye to gather
And scatter the ash, scatter the ash
And leave only the dust for palms to gather
To be found by the lost and lost by the last

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