Member Poem

A quiet rumor voiced, the softest thought

Remembered by the hero. Yet no heart

Will gladly hear. Words frequently repeat

In love for life and limb are lost to time,

And are not sought by men or realms. The loss

Is keenly felt. Now it is black and night.

And yet not all is lost to darkest night —

The mind is ever present, giving thought

Despite the trickle of red sap. The loss

Of sense is sharply felt. The beating heart

Will thump in rhythms known only by the time

It quickly pounds to, ticking in repeat.

The silken touch of peace is not repeat

In fragrant gusts of wind, so strong in night.

Men watch the clocks. They look for steady time

In strife. Still, chimes may disconcert a thought,

Distracting minds to fright a weakened heart,

Without a care to who will find a loss.

And yet not all will find a trial loss,

They hope that justice will prevail, repeat

As it has been in present past. The heart

Can not be turned to shame as tart as night

Without much more than pain. It takes a thought

Of infant lives not lost, to come in time. 

A mind must know the spell of nature, time

The only small unknown. It will be loss

If they should not perceive the past. A thought

May soon avert the dark, no fate repeat.

It may still come, a trickle in the night.

Such bitter pleasure. But still stands the heart.

The end may come to men and hero hearts,

But clocks still tick to tell the passing time

as day gives way to twilight grey, then night

Comes quickly. In the sunless light is loss 

Of honest life. Yet still mistakes repeat

In endless cycle, never a new thought.

In all the time we have, once it is night,

The loss once felt forever will repeat.

The heart will tick no more, the words not thought.