An Address to time.

Tell the nightingale her song is no longer wanted
Among the grim voices of the night. 
Prohibit the rooster from shaking off 
My gracious sands of slumber.
Scatter all stars from my horizon, 
And snatch away Polaris.

Erase the word “miss”
From all lexicons, encyclopedias, novels. 
Inform the rain that today is his day to 
Roam free and hammer away at our lands,
For I could care no more.

Free all spirits from their graves this evening, 
Let the air be filled with mournful din, 
A sound that she must hear herself. 
Careen from your noble path into her 
Complex conscience, and find out for me 
What truth lies beyond her words. 

Suspend me forever between melancholy and nonchalance
But tip the balance in favor of the former.