Yes, I know for certain:
The curtain will fall.
Yet, to save my sole
I must fret at the wetness of my sock.
The hawk, the lover of blue sky must
Fly, and let not go.
Sliding sixty-six steps down the ladder of time
My body is every cell a bruise.
But, that is my Muse, it is the celebration of
this moment that is all.
Let me sing.
**************************************