Colin F. Jones

WHERE THEY SAW HIM LAST

Gloom inspires the urgency for joy,
Like a drowning man reaching for a buoy,
And we get up because it’s time to rise,
And do it quicker to greet a great surprise.
But yet the stagnant activate no change,
They use the past to constantly derange,
For there the power of their essence lost,
Dwells in the payment of the lifelong cost.
That marking time retains a noble stand,
Resurrecting all that they had thought so grand.
They live where ever thoughts do make a place,
For them to dwell where none can find a trace,
Of what they were beyond that point of past,
Where he died; where they saw him last.