Little Toils

14 April 2008
Headingley, England

Each day’s small accretions hardly seem worth
Brief expenditures of time or effort
And yet I know they’re soul’s only choice left
To even faintly defy Death’s sure fate

¿So what can heart from soul’s flower bring forth?
To then to those that follow hope afford
When our soul from existence be quick cleft
In an unknown place and uncertain date

That all sureties, even our earth’s north
Will crumble like stone walls of some old fort
Despite all of our arguments quite deft
Making man's greatest work birth from his mate