he sits in his residence splendor
in the dark toward the turn of the day
his woman’s garden roses about the house
he muses with the muses of Zeus
to find the meaning of it all
wondering why
he should consider
irresolvable considerations
in the dark
of night and his life
with roses in the room
when the former years
were living with no such concern
running full bore towards nothing but
living, loving, getting it done
moving on
moving on
passing through life with passion
without musing
without concern
when it might have mattered
might have been
something, something
while now musing is
merely ruminations with the muses
in the residence splendor
in the dark of the room
toward the turn of day