The Last Poet - 3/20/1992

Shoulders hunched and hair gone gray,
the last poet sat fidgeting, ending the day.
The hidden lines to the finishing verse,
hands gnarled, mouth forming a curse.

The last of them all, the poet only remained,
looking for the key, the last word unnamed.
Realization then, that the cosmos had stopped,
the age was past, the transitory orbit rocked.

The deaf poet's burden, to finish mankind,
the stanza waiting, the cloudy eyes gone blind.
This is the last poet, given to the divine,
searching for the perfect end, to life, to time.