wandering and wondering

I couldn't help it, it was all drawn up
before we could see what was in it
the decorum the changes the happenstance
embitterned by the changing winds
the tide that rushes to shore
asking for more, now you're stealing
can't stop a second thought,
racing to a close
getting somewhere always somewhere
you're always waiting for the next train
outward bound in the strange way
hidden only for those who see fit
for another try to get it
we always stopped you too soon
laying in with your new moon
battle drawn and lived bountiful
lifted from the scripture
in whatever manifest time brings us
the easy slide of what's left behind
maybe we'll have you later, to choose
and be given lightly or sardonically
granted and taken away so soon
living out in rag-man's tomb
all wrapped in sheaths of paper
made light of, yes, and done
when others see the sun,
they call out loud
they are so proud
to find what's left behind
because they always know
that bringing that something to the show
is a risky ordeal, it's brought close to feel
what's really there