Samstag morn

Samstag morn in the

Tide of time, the

Wisps of wander in

Toto without all yet

None to become.

Wear we wore we

Roamed beyond, we

Tested we trialled,

We passed on through

We stalked.

Fragment and fissure and

Sleight of hand,

Wished to whim to

Wonderous wander

Where worlds wait

Waste and wither.

To the moonlit setting

Sun, the sensual

Swinging through,

Ghosted light

Descending across

Spines that twist

Wanton, winsome

Wide-eyed.

Where we what,

None to become,

Who we do to

See we be.

For out we in,

Sinned we saint.

The Earth turns

Another round

Of the Sun

And I'm here

Still

Questing questions.