As the sword like sunrays
Shed the scabbards of the night
I cast regret into their flames
And as my words and sounds call silence to my side
So too this waxing life shall wane.
What then will my mark be, what my legacy?
I can say that I‚ve been host to passion, grace and beauty
Spontaneity and wit, humor, art & fury.
Along with fury, I've made a bed in deceit and jealousy
And I‚ve been company to vengeance, doubt and vanity.
Yes, unashamed I'll speak of these
As any garment ever worn
For the truer fabric of this soul can ne‚r e‚r be torn.
Of brightest light and highest height we all originate.
No foolish act, no unkind deed, nor evil premeditate
Can bar our crossing - our return,
our entry through the gate,
For the spell which traps this river
In a vial of gilded glass
Has time as its great watchman
This too shall come to pass.
And once set free the river shall flow
To meet the Ocean of all,
befriend largess and magnitude
No more to be so small.
Yet, what will be my legacy, my gift to carry on?
Perhaps this very question, that in others it may dawn!


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