An ode, at least, to tell the tale
of men whose minds are meek.
Ones who wade behind the veil,
from questions they retreat.
Fear not the void, but soldier on
the night is full of stars,
and though your heart be heavy now
your soul may heal the scars.
Now what to do and what to say
are oftentimes at odds
and even when your love may sway
be calm to face the gods.
The gods of time and all the earth,
the tides that turn to beach,
the stars that look upon with mirth
at those who we beseech.
But sleep I will with gentle dream
of time that we had shared,
then turn to life without a seam
the fate of one who dared.
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