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Come to Rest
© December 11, 1998, Roy Stucky

Betraying style
Behind my smile,
I try to hide
The void inside.

The twisting screw
Is breaking through
The polished poise
My pride deploys.

Restless shift, glen mist, ill fit -
Slow drift, sudden twist, loose knit -
Dark rift, mad fist, ragged wit.

I attain and then
The lines move again.
Seem always to strive
But never arrive.
Homeward quest
But always a guest.
When does this frantic motion come to rest?

Sharpened cleft,
    no rest,
    once met -
Too deft,
    endless quest,
    cold sweat -
True theft,
    mere guest,
    hollow threat.

In my present form
The approaching storm
Draws a line of dread
On my hanging thread.

My composure's faint
Like a patron saint
From another time
Can appear in mine.