About a Sign

A bridled tongue
And sundipped pen
Will try to fight for me again--

Through every day that I'll have passed
As long as frigid tremors last
To reach the depths of what I know
(To the extent that it is so)
I'll practice wholly thinking of
The time and space continuum
And hopefully with fist clenched pain
Can stumble out of dreary frame
And into lighted world unknown
By any other than a throne

The bleakness of my eyes' report
Is murdered by my heart's contort
Envisioning acceptance of
The world I know in swing because
Of thoughts and deeds done not by I
But rather, wholesome friend nearby
And I will rest in full despite
The treachery in sound and sight
And inhale every inch that's brought
And finally make love with thought
That books are penned and songs are sung
Indifferent of my breaths when young

I feel its warmth but see it not
(The day the answer is begot)
And clouded mind will finally cease
Disturbing every shred of peace
I will resemble each remark
However wretched, shrewed, or stark
And own my own as given by
A magic giver in the sky
I'll all at once begin to shout
How sea and sky could do without
The story of mistaken trust
Obliterating every "must"

How bittersweet of this conclusion
To coax me from the rash illusion
That I am fully worthy of
The first five movements from above
I'll feel and know when time is best
That my whole vanity's a jest

Were I to wake to find the ground
I walked upon was still around
And tree and rock not marred nor scathed
Positions perfectly arranged
First witnessing the plans unfold
Each plant and person rightly told
Here all exist were I not me
And where I am is where I'll be.