Upon Lost Belongings

Bend and gather the lose and the last
Of my belongings, as they shall,
Pass amid those rising masts
Those drift them afar and swell,
By the broken wind and word,
That stood gaping against the shore,
Treading upon the sands no more.

While my belongings break their customs,
And rise high and low, like dancing sails.
For once in their raising, lay unaccustomed
By their meandering and manners pale.
Pearls and pearls -measured in stooks.
Why their say be a languished truth?
Like bartered conceptions of the youth.

In the gathering the lost is lost,
Founding only in the memory, remains.
Yet I seem to carry the cost
Of the losing and it’s following claims.
They be set for a journey now.
The journey of mine, broken, ceased,
Bend to gather – belongings or peace?

Upon Wandering Thought

I have left a thought wandering,
In placid silence and reflections.
While the dust lays, timidly, gathering,
I seek pleasure among other creations,
That float and stir the peace within
And mellow with those falling debts.
Have they been those sights unseen?
Ah! The conspiring soul of mine! It lets
Them inside that tranquil place.
Unknown to all, where the ripples they,
Move farther and farther to embrace
A thought left wandering at the bay.