Riveting Rill

Drops pour into my brain tonight:
Endless in a melting pot,
Submerged in the fog of noisy life.

But these eyes look skyward still,
And see the light of unseen stars,
And muse the mind of God,
And lull in dusty hopes of yore.

Shattered yet undead,
Golden though lost from sight:
Sweet relic of yesteryear.

Fight with sharpened blades each hour.
Let loose the beasts of precision.
Pour till the beaker swells over.
The dawn will break the strangle soon.
The threshold will be tripped.

There remains time to soar,
To bloom the muffled buds,
To fly to the other world like neutrinos,
To be wild like the dreams of a child,
To reach and breach your limits,
And reignite the extinct hunger of youth.