TBD8

Evidently, lacking proper footing,

our pursuits lost their nobler warrant,

and they came cascading

down a jagged face of granite rock.

Amongst evergreens then lay our pursuits,

vestiges of their former brilliance,

admittedly somehow definitive

of their former cause and purpose.

Eventually, given the time passed,

these pursuits were consumed

by needles and tempered earth,

twisted and wrought with

rock and clay,

though, unmistakably,

reinvigorated with shades of life,

the sort neither had ever known.

Even as rain pounds overhead,

the pursuits we once shared

make no effort to free themselves.

Revolution and regret

have made them accountable

for lives absent of sincerity,

clearly having fallen short

of solution and achievement.

Choosing to lay buried,

our pursuits keep still,

though acknowledge the prospect

of a second chance.

They disregard the opportunity

to be free

from too early a grave,

to return atop a granite wall

where they had once

deserved to be.