The gray clouds gather heavy in the west

For prescient travelers wondering as they look

To what lies beyond, wondering what the rest

Of time will bring. Proscribed, the karmic book

Illuminates the names of those on board

This one last journey to their destiny

Of finally fulfilled passion. The sword

Of surrender tightly grasped, not ready

To pass on gently into ever night,

Not willing to go softly off the land,

And not prepared to accept this, they fight

For precious hours. But then, when time’s at hand

They pray for absolution. He might wait

For some to make amends, if not too late

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