From my intent there hides a seed
And from my aim there evades a deed,
In the shadows by a dying hearth of heed
Are Forgotten dreams of a forgotten creed,
Recondite beneath the sheets of need
Queiscent are those unsaid words not freed,
All the while the child that was me
Laughs irreverent, mockingly.
Its a game where none that meant to be found
seek those that were plainly always around.
Watch ever vigilant, lest they slip by,
As they tried when the path last went awry.
