Later than expected
I nursed the homeward journey to my taste.
I was quite early but as ever later than I’d like.
I wish’d the time to be manipulated but maybe now I have a reason,
but given none, I ‘d be mistaken to think it better.
I’d saddle side the trojan deity,
the flagrant half of my depravity:
secrets laid, a secret’s bared upon the soils of Spring time’s sowing.
I want an evening only dreaming,
the morning’s set a path for me.
I had a notion of my journey once before.
Upon the way to where it is I go
I feel the trembling, the loss of everything.
I miss the way it was when the oath (or path) was empty.