Chariot Unslowed

By Timothy R Butler | Posted at 3:51 AM

To J.A.P. (T.S.E.)

“So like an empty coffee cup in June,
The winds of time blow me away too soon,
And so I tremble, question as I fade,
What does a life once lived do as a shade?
As weary sands do shift from dune to dune,
My melody is rift for a new tune.

The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.”

The people pass, their heavy bags in tow,
As if the winds ne’er rain out a show,
“To shame! To shame! A shade have I become
To me full unawares – whilst beats life’s drum?
Please stop, oh death worn drum! Bring on the lyre!
Extend the wick where burns the fearsome fire!

The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.”

“A little here I swung at hopes of glory,
Far more I gave to live in money’s story,
I conquered many things, enlarged my realm,
A master of my life I steered the helm!”
What waits for you, old questioner, what port?
What’s left? What mark is left of your great court?

“The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.

“From days came weeks, from weeks came years misled,
A promise for the next, unkept, unsaid.
Unnoticed for some greater good, I stayed
Upon the safer path I had long strayed,
Further moving myself from my hoped goals,
Ignoring them brought me to greater tolls.

The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.”

The chimes vibrate the ‘bandoned coffee cup,
It rolls along where he had hoped to sup,
A mix of blinded force and choice did lead,
To this a finished act, unopened deed.
Planned not to fault the thing, the point was missed,
And left to cry once more behind the mist,

“The clock strikes now, why not tomorrow?
Its sound leaves me with naught but sorrow.”

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