As Aged I

As aged I I the Poet Seer turned the Coin of Life from Conscious to Sub-Conscious face around: no, no silent sound but in my verses crept graves tombs and cemeteries and shrouds and ghosts and marches in the nights of sabers long marching, marching trudging: and sighing bridge, trees bent, after dusks, mild and violent nights of stars and otherwise: tempests and glooms hanging as the swords of Damocles hanging as the guillotine over Danton over the old City houses time to go: leave just leave the Coin of Life turn to Sub-Conscious face.