End all that is wrong

Now, end all that is wrong.

You look out, and I look out.

I look in, and you do not follow.

My road is dark, dark

and lonely is the lectern that

I stand and look out to observe.

Never has one had the

impulse, as I have the impulse.

I have the brush and will

complete my masterpiece, by God

I will complete my project. I continue,

as I walk toward my sunset.

I rock back and forth

as I coax the verses of tomorrow.

I rock back and forth, awaiting

the cane of mercy that awaits the bearer

of a poet’s pen, a pen that writes

for tomorrow’s sons and daughters.

I rock back and forth

seeing the past and seeing

the future in my sways.

Both are made from the sporadic

line of time.  Posterity’s steps have

been marked by the fog of

today’s proclivities.

I rock back and forth

between the good and ill of myself.

I stand as puppeteer and puppet master

of my ebbing waves of etherized energies.

I am a cell, that, I know in this world.

Even that certainty carries a certain arrogance that keeps me rocking

on the chair of patience. 

One of these verses will get it right, one day.

That is what keeps the fight in me,

until then I’ll keep stammering. 

One day maybe I’ll actually say

something worth saying.

With my somber steed

who looks up at me not… I march.

He keeps walking, as the curtain keeps

falling in the distance.