A sleep forsaken to awaken
Broken sheaths of crystal lakes
Sturdy holds, we longed to take.
To where, to whom, to what, and how-
The cloaked jury in the stands
Could not stop ancient Rome from sinking
Deeper into rugged sands.
A lighthouse light too dim to see,
A sea too dim- Medusa’s bed.
Her raft did only float the living
To consume the grateful dead.
A never-ending site- we’ll dig through
Rusted doctrines to appease
The black-cloaked monks of Tintern Abbey
Whispering through willow trees.