Thursday, February 18, 2016

As the Eagles Fly

What joy - before death tolls,
to know that today is the only day.
Tomorrow is the wager of souls,
silently waiting, making no promise.
After many doubts, I find my way,
the way of time's choosing this.

An island on the distant water,
a haven of darkness, a night's stage.
Rock and life, history's daughter,
upon a bitter nebula, a voyager's sky.
Ancient warrior and cunning sage,
a thousand suns as the eagles fly.

A bell still rings true and bold,
proclaims the hour, stating its case.
History marches on, we grow old,
staying young at heart, bold as youth.
Easily we'll gaze upon time's face,
and pause with wonder at truth.

The steady rocking of the sea,
and we wander into bright dreams.
What has been, what shall ever be,
these alone are what we're promised.
Where there is you, so there is me,
together still in morning's mist.

Brian Francis Hudon
November 16, 2015 

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