A wanderlust attends my end in peace -
reflections rotting t'ward reality.
Will answers coming cause my question's cease,
and will my walk, my thoughts, show me to me?
Is there a hearth some place where I may go
and patiently await Death to descend?
Will then a stagnant river start to flow
to help me find my feet to face Life's end?
On windward beach my wisdom washed ashore,
your heart awaited sails long overdue,
and cargo - dreams and hopes forever more -
all lagan, with a love I shared with you.
Across the sea, in sad and lonely eye...
is there, for me, a tear that's left to cry?