Field day

And so you think it is with you
Your ideas mature gradually
insipid thoughts
though never do

Let them grow,
let them form shape
without
undue haste

Live on them
and
procreate as though
you could be today
what time is .. to me

Grace the glory
and tone the goodwill

Circumstances act guilty
of prying
hapless miseries
giving no tomorrow
any lack of shrill

Who could say
what new spirit will be
within you, I shall find
nothing else
but the want to let me be

Believing your hand
will lead me through chase

Accepting the anxiety
and incompleteness
with complete grace

I shall wait till the night
lives and
the day turns black with grimace ..