the sound of shattering glass.
profound inclusions reaching critical mass.
if its alright with you this cup may pass.
but it probably wont when i am brought to task.
a gift to the wise from the shores of irony.
far be it from me to question the hostilities of eternity.
but belatedly happy birthday from the land, sky and sea.
a measure of what has gone before.
i look out upon that familiar shore.
one from nine and ten from eight.
the rythm changes from granite to slate.
caution to all who know the end.
in order not to break you must bend.
and living remembers where it has been.
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