An archer amidst the mirth of birds His arrow flies through arches of slanted light Sometimes Time distills Sometimes it flows by A dancer bare on a shoal Her arms raised as if she could exalt the sky Sometimes Time distills Sometimes it flows by You and I are made for this earth Not for these times We find comfort in the berth of our pasts We choose to wonder the lark of furtive futures I am rudderless and adrift tonight My pen, in sinews of ink, dries in the maelstrom Strain your eyes To span time