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“I Will”…My Wont

‘I will’ may sound determined mind

but what if frozen to the spot;

it’s not the strength of courage moves,

but muscles loosed from solid state.


When solid state for rest is prayer -

ironical, bed’s shaking legs,

as if their pacing, kicking up,

to shame the fool who took no steps.


No steps compare to steep descent

into deep trough, slough of despair,

the final statement, tablet writ -

in cuneiform for what it’s worth.


It’s worth all this for poetry,

the lie of land in landscape art,

for though it concentrates the mind,

distraction muses, final rôle?


Yet final rôle, its curtain call,

to serve as best in falling world,

while shuffle off sounds mortal coil,

if willing, wont, my leaving stayed.

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