Monolith Of Self, (From: Corsairs Of Old)

On the belief that life will always suckle me
give the withal to move up another step
be enriched by the clear poverty of living
direct my triumphs and protect me to the last;
in this conclave of mind I stare bold and scheming
reinfected by the gaiety of the young
receiving joy from the simple garden pleasures
sung by the blooms that reach out trusting to the sun.
This moment is the only truth once afforded
the future a falsehood that I must never cast
rewards are held in this present earnest heartbeat
pass the old draughts and bray the monolith of self.