About The Wire

Post 160:

It’s not the way, the pluck won’t hold

It’s mysteries and parchments rolled

Clinging though we go through cold

To never find the fire

It’s not the story, so I’m told

Borrowed words and memories sold

Stationary till I’m old

And graying of desire

It’s not to say, by dint of bold

The day won’t break the pressing mold

It may be light we might behold

And footing on the wire.