Where The Old Men Stare

Young men dream
with eyes wide wakened,
staring deep in passion’s faces,
drinking in the sweet awareness,
blinded to fate’s celebrations.

Chase in pairs
rare energies, dancing
errant of a caution,
feasting eyes will fail to see
the dangers present in a warning.

Young men waken,
wary eyes are worn-out arrows
dreams dissolved in flickered shadows
dusted schemes are pillared billows
dreams that died or bent like willows.

Mud of lust
repairs the vision, eyes now blind see
sights unrisen, comfort cares of mother’s
ensign, sheeted where the old men stare
sleep alone in sainted peace.
© 4 June 2007, I.D. Carswell